


If You Leave

by raewastaken (IWriteLove)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, im not sure what else to tag it but wow i wrote lunacross
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 01:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1963206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteLove/pseuds/raewastaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't trust anyone, not since what had happened. He had barely trusted anyone his whole life... So why, why was he letting his brown eyed, brown haired optimist so close when he was just going to die or leave him like everyone else?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please Take Me Back

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for five million years about damn time I finish it.  
> Um, I don't have much to say other than the title and all the chapter names are lyrics from Daughter, and all the songs I used are off of the Album "If You Leave".  
> Please enjoy! :'D

It was dark and stormy, the wind picking up cold air and icy raindrops, spraying them against the side of long since abandoned buildings, crumbling and decrepit ruins covered in ivy and vines crawling up old supports and through the glass of broken windows. It had been raining for hours, almost nonstop since right after midday, and the water was starting to pool in the potholes on the roads, in the mud where concrete used to be, where weeds and wildflowers now grew. Occasional flashes of lightning lit up the streets, silhouetting the small figure sitting in the empty frame where a window once sat, his hood on his jacket pulled up and keeping the rain out of his eyes, his hands curling around the leftover shards of glass. His knuckles were white, but palms beginning to sting and burn from the cuts and dirty rainwater, diluted blood dripping down off the building. His eyes watched the red drops as far as he could see them, before tightening his hands on the frame again, mind racing.

Blood. Tears. Gunshot. Footsteps. Yelling. Running.

' _Jump_.'

The thought made his stomach clench, his heart jump and body freeze. Jump. It lingered in his mind for a moment, debating and trying to decide if he should; it would get him out of the problem he was in, and sounded a lot better than he'd ever care to admit out loud. He was never this kind of person, to so blatantly disregard his own life in such a way, to have such a thought and remark it as almost a logical option in his current situation, no matter what was happening to him. Nothing had ever made him want to just throw all he had been working for out the window like this. Not the death of his parents, not getting kicked out of the quarantine, not starving in the ditches, not watching his best friend die in front of his own eyes, not the undead that constantly posed a threat. Nothing. 

  
But being perched on this building, nearly twenty stories high with the ground nearly beckoning him below, it was so logical, so tempting, so real. He quickly scrambled away from the edge and went to sit further inside of the building, listening to the pitter patter of rain on the windows that were left and the groans and creaks of the slowly decaying supports, slowly shrugging off his too heavy backpack and setting it down next to an old office desk, before peeling his soaked jacket off of his frame and setting it on top of the desk to let it dry. He sighed and turned back to the broken window, catching his reflection in the unbroken glass beside it. Blonde hair, getting a bit shaggy and hanging down past his ears, his face a mix of exhaustion and hardened fear, eyes sunken and a tired blue. He watched himself for a moment, before turning, finding a good place to curl up and fall asleep for an hour or so, his eyes drooping at the thought. He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest, slipping his eyes closed and eventually finding himself asleep uneasily.

* * *

He was awakened to the sound of shuffling feet.

His eyes widened and he sat up, hand immediately going to the small pistol he concealed under his belt, all of his senses on high alert, listening to try to pinpoint the sound. It was another few moments before he heard the shuffling again, and he quietly got to his feet, kneeling and staying low as he grabbed his still damp jacket and back up, carefully putting them on. He pulled the gun from his waistband and held it at the ready, peeking around the corner of the desk. Nothing. He waited, hearing footsteps again, before hearing a crash and a curse, but it didn't sound like it was coming from the same level as himself. He breathed a gentle sigh of relief, standing up a little with the gun held tight in his hands, quietly making it to the stairwell and ducking into it, before silently descending. As he got to the story below him, the voices became clearer, and he paused outside of the floor to listen. Maybe they were scavengers and he could get what they had. Or maybe they were the ones after him. Either way he didn't want to let his guard down. 

"Goddammit, nothing good is in this building!" He heard a man's voice yell, before there was a sharp clang and a curse.

"You moron don't kick the fucking metal," came a gruffer man's voice, before there was shuffling again and a soft thump. "Let me see. Hopefully you didn't break anything."

"Nothing's broken," the other voice said. "I'm fine."

He shifted back a little when he heard the footsteps shuffle around a little, walking closer to the stairs again quietly, trying to stick close to the shadows. ' _Stay low, stay dark, stay quiet_ ,' he heard the voice of his best friend say in his head and he sucked in a breath as he ducked in the dark corner, eyes wide as he saw the two men leave the floor and enter the stairwell.

"Well, next floor?" The gruff voice asked, the man attached to it sort of shorter and stockier, and he could tell from where he was that he had a thick beard. 

"Yeah, I guess so. Not like we have a choice," the other man said, being a polar opposite than his companion. He was tall and thin, probably well built under his clothes. They turned and headed up the stairs, and he sat, kneeling in the dark and holding his breath until he heard their steps and voices muffle, before he booked it down the stairs, not caring how loud his steps were, or how loud his breathing was, or how his vision clouded with tears when he got to the bottom and the hot salty liquid poured down his cheeks as he ran down the street.

* * *

It was days before he found a place to stop for a night, muscles sore from walking and body exhausted from the lack of sleep, everything screaming for rest. He ducked into the small abandoned house, one of the few that wasn't boarded up on the street it sat, and waited in the entryway for noises or voices, but finding none. He pulled his gun out and walked quietly, checking the rooms and closets carefully for the undead, before finding the kitchen and digging around for food or water. The tap wasn't working, although he was expecting that, and all the refrigerator contained was a bunch of decades old food that was long since expired. He sighed and moved into nearest room with a couch, setting his bag down and digging through it for the candles he had, setting them on the coffee table and lighting them carefully, sighing at the small amount of life and warmth they provided. He looked up to the mantel above the fireplace, looking over the trinkets and pictures, standing to get a better look. Four pictures of kids, three of them looking fairly young while the fourth was in a gown and hat, smiling at the camera. There were four angel figures, and he picked one of them up, looking over it and humming, before placing it back down and reaching for the broken bear piggy bank. He held it in his hands carefully, turning it over to find a name written in a child's handwriting on the underside, his heart dropping at the thought. He put it back and stepped back, before looking back at the candles he set up on the square coffee table, picking up the long since written note, brushing the dust off of it.

" _Mom: something is really really wrong here. Y'all don't get back from your vacation for a few days and I can't get ahold of you but they're evacuating the city and I have to go. I've got the kids and the dog with me and I'll keep them safe. I just hope you can come home and see this. I love you, mom. I love you. Love: R----_ "

The name was smudged and the ink had bled, probably from tears. He set the note back down, before moving to the couch, dusting it off a little before laying down, staring at the candles flickering on the table. He wondered what it was like. Before the outbreak. How things had been. He could only see glimpses and small attributes of it from the pictures and notes and belongings he found scattered around, but sometimes he wished he could see it for himself. It must have been nice. He closed his eyes and curled in a little, managing to nod off finally.

* * *

The sound of rain and thunder woke him the next morning. It was still dark outside, not even the cloudy sun that came from storms present, and he pulled himself off the couch with a grown, muscles sore from the rest they so wanted, everything in his body screaming for him to just lay down, rest some more, to stay here for a while longer, maybe to never leave if he was lucky, or unlucky. He sighed and grabbed his backpack and peeked outside, face worrying into a frown. He really didn't want to get wet, that posed so many threats and worries alone, and he didn't even know if he would be able to find another place to lay low like this, to dry off and get some sleep. It was kind of risky. He worried his lower lip between his teeth, before dropping his bag again and sitting back down on the couch. A little while longer. Couldn't hurt. Wouldn't hurt. There was no way they'd find him this far from the base. He dug through his bag for another match to light the candles again, warming his cold hands over the flame for a moment, before picking one up and deciding to explore the house a bit. There were clothes and other small things scattered around the living room, and he looked over it all, before heading down the hall, holding the candle in front of him and looking over the pictures hanging up on the wall, looking into the bathroom. There was a long since dried blood stain on the bath mat and tile, and he scanned his eyes over it, before going to the room next to it, looking around the bedroom. Portraits of butterflies hung above the dusty curtains, and the TV was knocked off the dresser, cracked and broken. Probably looters, from the early days. He left and went across the hall to the other two bedrooms, his gut churning when he saw one of them had a set of bunkbeds, pink and purple bedsheets spread on the floor, and he held his candle tighter, peeking into the other room. A bit more plain, with camo bedsheets on the single bed. He turned and left the hallway, his heart thudding at the thought of what that meant, heading to the front door and to the room next to it. There was an entertainment system in one corner and a desk in the other, and he went to the entertainment system first, holding his candle up better to look at it. There was an old, dusty TV with a game platform attached to it, and stacks of games scattered about. He looked over them and picked up a few to look, hearing thunder in the distance.

"They look cool, don't they?"

He jumped, nearly dropping his candle, and he turned quickly, hand reaching for his gun, that was missing from his waistband, his heart pounding in fear. There was a boy, probably about his age, sitting on the small futon in the center of the room, his brown hair sticking up a bit and equally as brown eyes large behind a set of old glasses. His face was kind of dirty, but his lips were pulled in a smile, which made him look younger. "I would have loved to live during that time. Read the one about the underwater city. It sounds amazing." 

"Who are you," he asked, not posing the question as what it intended to be, but more of a statement, his hands shaking slightly. "Where did you come from and why are you here?"

The boy's face fell and he watched him. "I just came in here to get out of the rain. I didn't want to scare you or anything. I didn't take anything, I promise," he said, before grabbing his backpack and standing up. "I'll leave, if you want me to."

"Stay right there," he said, voice raising a bit. "Who the fuck are you? You're not with them, are you?"

"Them?"

"Don't act fucking stupid! Are you with them or fucking not!"

"I don't know who you're talking about!" the boy exclaimed. "My name is Miles. Miles Luna. I'm from the Austin quarantine."

Austin. That's where he came from. "What are you doing this far North?"

Miles' face fell again. "I'm headed to the Dallas quarantine."

"That place is abandoned. It's been that way for years. If you're looking to get out of the shit hole that Austin is, you're out of luck. It's all thats left this far South."

"I know," Miles said softly. "I'm going back there to find out about my mom."

He watched his face move, before relaxing a bit. "Your mom?"

"Yeah," he said softly, smiling a little. "My mom. She was from the Dallas quarantine. She had me there before it fell and was abandoned, but then moved south to Austin. I never knew her. I was raised an orphan."

Orphan. The word fell familiar on his ears and he wrinkled his nose. "It's suicide," he told him. "Nothing's there beside old decaying buildings and the undead. If you don't die from a ceiling caving in, you'll die from a bite."

"I'm willing to risk it," Miles said, his face full of determination and dedication, something he hadn't seen in so long, he was almost unsure of what it looked like. Or what it felt like, in that matter. Miles had this aura of it around him. He was so stupid. Dallas was so dangerous. "I need to know about my mom. And I'll die trying."

He watched him, before sighing heavily and looking at his candle. "Good luck, then."

"Why don't you go with me?"

He looked up at him, frowning and looking at him exactly how he felt he was- absolutely crazy. "What?"

"Come with me. It'd be safer to travel with someone, right?" Miles asked with a smile. "I can watch your back and you can watch mine. We could be a team."

There was no reason to say yes, to agree to that absolutely crazy idea, but before he could stop himself, he was agreeing to it and grabbing his backpack (pistol tucked neatly into it), and heading outside with Miles, the ground wet with rain and the smell of earth surrounding them. They got down the street and to the end of the block, before Miles turned and smiled at him, eyes bright. "You never mentioned your name." He looked at him, debating it, before he looked down.

"Kerry. My name's Kerry Shawcross."


	2. I Will Meet My Creators

It took Kerry about a week to truly realize the mistakes he had made traveling with Miles. For one, the guy was almost a nonstop chatter box, and he always had something to say on where they were, where they were going, their supplies, what life had been like for him at the quarantine, just about anything and damn near everything under the sun that popped into his head. He was too loud, too talkative, not nearly as attentive as he could be. How he had managed to survive as long as he had outside the walls was beyond Kerry- he didn't even carry a weapon. His steps were loud, he made himself as big and presentable as he could, wore the brightest colors Kerry had seen on this side of the world. If the zombies didn't hear him, then people must have seen him, but he looked as healthy as you could be given the circumstances, and the only scar he could see immediately was one that sat on his arm. It made Kerry wonder if Miles' had been through shit like him, but didn't look like a bullet grazed scar and he didn't want to ask- he'd be dead in a few days, was all he kept telling himself.

Just like everyone else.

The second thing that managed to rub Kerry the wrong way was the fact Miles had no notion of personal space. He was touchy, always tapping Kerry's shoulder to get his attention when his burning silence wasn't enough of a sign, pushing him playfully, or slapping his arm carefully to tell him some asinine thing he came up with. He got too close when he was talking, his arm brushing against Kerry's shoulder and hand always managing to hold Kerry's wrist for a fraction of a second before he dropped it. It was more than a bothersome thing to Kerry, after a while. It made him anxious, almost paranoid, of this tall goofy teen. He didn't do touch. He just didn't. Not anymore. He didn't like being touched or touching other people. He liked keeping a distance, which Miles' apparently couldn't understand. 

And finally, the third and final thing that made Kerry want to put a bullet in Miles' head himself, was his questions. He was constantly questioning him about where he came from, if he had a family, if he had friends, if he had a special lady friend ("Or boy!" he countered quickly at Kerry's fiery glare. "I don't judge!"), what he meant by "them", all kinds of personal questions that made Kerry want to cringe and head off in the middle of the night without him. 

Kerry wasn't sure why he hadn't yet. Why he hadn't just packed up all of his things and left late in the night when Miles was fast asleep and unaware? Why was he still walking and traveling and putting up with him when his patience was being tested and worn down? What was he getting out of this other than a little extra food and a little extra water? The questions had no answers and made his head hurt more than anything else, and it made that empty gap in his heart feel larger and colder than he thought was possible anymore. Despite his brain protesting otherwise, he continued on with him, most of the time just watching the back of his head while they walked, eyes hoping to bore a hole in his hair. 

Unfortunately that never happened.

The rain clouds that had been hanging overhead for what felt like years had finally traveled north, leaving the sun shining down on them, bright and hot. The concrete had started to dry, and with that came the heat and humidity. It made the back of Kerry's neck sticky with sweat and his body tired and more sore than what he was used to. He felt like stopping more often than usual, and probably drank twice as much water as he did before, all while Miles' was giving him worried glances. It was more than frustrating to him. He could take care of himself. He could survive on his own. He didn't need this deadweight of a human being following him around trying to take care of him and help him. 

They finally managed to duck into an old department store around sunset, finding a good spot upstairs to call home for the night, Miles putting together a couple of beds with the towels and blankets and pillows still scattered about while Kerry found things to barricade the stairs and broken escalators. "I found some beef jerky," Miles said with a soft smile when Kerry came back, holding up the bag, before frowning and pulling back. "Oh, nevermind it expired almost twenty years ago. I think we'd get sick."

Kerry rolled his eyes and grabbed his backpack, opening it and taking out whatever food he had in it and water, setting them down in front of him, before taking out his knife to open the can, listening to Miles humming to himself. He finally popped the lid off and tossed it elsewhere, looking down into the can. Pears. Go figures he managed to get away with canned fruit. He sighed and started eating, glancing up at Miles as he did. "Where have you been finding food?" he asked as he ate.

Miles perked up a little and looked at Kerry, before smiling at him. "I've been raiding the smaller fallen quarantines," he said, before pulling out some food for himself and a water. "There's some all around Austin, you know. And I've been pretty good about getting around without being detected or having to kill anything."

"You haven't killed anything?" Kerry asked, the idea absolutely impossible to him. Miles hadn't killed anything? That explained why he didn't carry a weapon, but how the fuck had he survived this long outside of the walls, then? "Not a walker, not a person, nothing?"

The brunet shook his head, glancing up at Kerry and humming. "No. Nothing. I... I don't think I should, I mean... They're people, right? What if there is a cure somewhere, and we're just running around slaughtering all them... I... I know I'd be heartbroken if I had to kill someone, only to find out that I could have cured them..."

Kerry stared at him while he talked. He was one of those righteous people. "They're not people anymore, Miles."

"But they could be. Again. Someday," he said, voice dropping off at the last word, before he started eating. "Um, tomorrow, I could show you how to get around the old quarantines if you want. There's one not too far from here, and it's on the way. Maybe... It'd help you one day when you're on your own, you know?"

Kerry didn't say anything, just looked down at his pears, before finishing them off and setting the empty can down, laying in his makeshift bed and rolling over away from Miles, hearing a quiet "night" before he tuned out the world and fell asleep.

* * *

_ "See? And you put your foot here." _

_He snorted, staring up at his best friend, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched them, watching their hand grip the chain link and feet find holes large enough to get a good footing. "Then you grab the top-" Their hands reached up to find the metal pole that ran across the top of the fence, a wide grin on their face. "Then... Up!" They pulled themself up, feet finding the top where their hands had been, before jumping down to the other side of the fence, turning to smile at him. "Now, come on, you try!"_

_"This is stupid. What if I get hurt?"_

_"Then I'll put a band-aid on your booboos and kiss them better, now come on, stop being such a wimp!"_

_He huffed and jumped up a little, grabbing were their hands had been previously, his feet finding the holes and hand gripping the chain link tight, before he hoisted himself up a little. "There you go, almost there," his friend said from the ground, watching as he managed to get to the top, before jumping down, stumbling a little as he tried to find his balance again, earning a laugh. "You did it! See, it wasn't that hard, was it?"_

_"I'm traumatized for life, now," he said, laughing and punching his friend's shoulder, smiling at him. "Thanks."_

_"No problem. Now, come on, we have to get back to the quarantine before the guards do their rounds by the way back in."_

* * *

Miles woke him up the next morning, his voice still quiet, before mumbling profanities under his breath. Kerry opened his eyes slowly, staring out at the floor they were on, before moving a hand to rub his eyes, listening to Miles.

"Oh, come on, where is it?" he heard him say, followed by rustling. "Come on, fucking come on, I know I didn't lo- AHA FOUND IT!"

The last part was loud, and that made Kerry sit up, glaring over at him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Miles' wide eyes met Kerry's and he laughed quietly. "Sorry. I was looking for something and found it. It's really important, so I got a bit excited when I did find it."

Kerry glared and sighed, turning away to grab his backpack. "Come on, we shouldn't just sit here all day," he said, frowning and standing up, kicking the blankets and things away from his feet. "We have to keep moving."

"Oh," Miles said quietly, before scrambling to his feet and putting all his things back into his backpack, throwing it on and looking at Kerry. "Okay, uh... Are we going to that old quarantine, or..."

"I guess so," he mumbled, body feeling heavy and sore. "Come on, don't just stand there. Lead the way. You know where it is right?"

"O-Oh, right. Yeah. Follow me."

It was a quiet trek to the abandoned city, Miles scarily silent while Kerry watched around them. A sign along the way read "Interstate 35" and Kerry could only assume that the highway led straight to Dallas. Miles' had mentioned following it all the way north since it was the fastest way, according to him. He had even caught him looking at an old, wrinkled and torn map like it was his life source, and mumble something about him getting there. Kerry didn't linger too long on it; Miles was a nutcase, and the quicker they could part ways, the better off he'd be.

It was hours before Kerry finally saw any signs of civilization; first there were some long since abandoned cars along the side of the road, windows smashed and metal eroding, with nature slowly taking them back over. Then there were the military vehicles, the tanks and SWAT vans, and finally, the barricades and chain link fences, skeletons littered about. Kerry glanced around at it all, then over at the bright green sign that read "Welcome to Georgetown: Population 52, 303, Established 1848". He heard Miles' displeased whines as they walked, eventually pausing in front of the gates, looking over them. They were bolted shut locks and Kerry hummed, scanning the fence. It was probably about seven feet tall, and there was a small hole in the middle of it. He walked over to it, ignoring Miles confused questioning. He grabbed the chain link, gripping it tight and putting his foot in the hole, before reaching up to grab the pole that ran along the top, hoisting himself up and scrambling over the top, jumping down with a grunt.

"Are you crazy!" Miles' said, coming to the fence and putting his hands on it, watching Kerry brush himself off and check his hands for cuts. "That's so dangerous what if you got hurt!"

"Not like we have a choice," Kerry said, looking over at Miles. "Come on, are you coming or not?"

"I'm not climbing the fence, Kerry."

"You don't have a choice."

Miles stood there for a moment, shifting from foot to foot, before grabbing some of the fence above his head, taking a deep breath and putting his foot in the hole. "What now?"

Kerry watched him. "Reach up, grab the pole, then pull yourself up and over. Be careful of the jump. Make sure your legs are straight. Don't need you breaking something."

The older of the two made a soft sound, before closing his eyes and reaching up to grab the pole, pulling himself up and grunting, before swinging his legs over and jumping down, landing and stumbling back a little. "Shit," he cursed, turning to look back at Kerry. "I don't want to do that again."

"You better get used to it. That's how it is out here," he said, before turning and looking across the city in front of them. "Come on, we better start walking."

Miles sighed and walked out in front of Kerry, leading the way through the streets, keeping his steps quiet for once, and Kerry watched him carefully. "I heard stories about this one," Miles said softly, looking back at Kerry. "Back home. They said there was some kids, like... ten maybe. They had found this dog outside of the gates and managed to get it in without the patrolling officers noticing. They were feeding it when it turned. They didn't see the bite on the underside of its belly. It bit the one feeding it, and then... the infection kind of spread like that," he said quietly, looking back to the streets. "That was almost a decade ago. My friends used to tell me this place was haunted, although I think they were just seeing how far they could go before I called bullshit."

Kerry hummed and looked around as they walked, before his stomach growled quietly, and he put a hand over it. "We should find some food. There's got to be a rations office around here, right?"

"Yeah. I think I remember hearing it was off of Main Street or something," Miles said, looking around. "If this place fell so quickly, and it's still gated up like this, surely no one's scavenged yet."

"That's what I'm going to hope for."

It felt like hours before they finally found the street, following it down the middle of the town before finding the old rations distribution center, the windows still boarded and door still locked up tight. Miles sighed as they approached, putting a hand on the lock and pulling at it. "Looks like they were closed when this place was abandoned."

Kerry hummed and looked around, frowning a little. Why didn't this place feel right? "Let's try to find something to break the handle off with. A bar or something."

"Uh, yeah, good idea. I think there was a hardware store back there. We can check there."

Kerry nodded and turned to head back down the street, carefully ducking into the old tool shop through the broken window, cursing quietly when he cut his hand, wiping it down on his jeans and walking in, shoes crunching on the broken glass. "Look for a hammer, or a crowbar," he told Miles, turning to watch him climb in. 

They split up, digging around in the old tools, most of them broken or falling apart. He could hear Miles shuffling around at the back of the store while he stayed toward the sides, picking up drills and chains and sawblades, before finding a crowbar, picking it up and turning it around in his hands, humming quietly. It seemed solid, and didn't look broken, at least not in this dim lighting. He sighed, turning to find Miles, seeing him walking around the aisles, picking up things and making faces, before hearing that shuffling at the back of the store again. Wait.

"I didn't find anything, Kerry," Miles said, walking back over to him and beaming when he saw the crowbar in his hands. "Oh, you found one!" he cheered happily, before grimacing when Kerry slapped his stomach. "Dude, wha-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Kerry whispered harshly, grabbing him and ducking when he heard the shuffling come closer to them. "There's a walker in here."

Miles' brown eyes went wide and he moved closer to Kerry, watching him. "What do we do?" he whispered, and Kerry could feel the panic coming off of him in waves. "Kerry, what do we do-"

"Stop fucking panicking," Kerry snapped quietly, listening for the shuffling. "And shut up I need to hear where it's coming from bef-"

"Kerry!" Miles yelled, grabbing him and pulling him back, both of them falling down onto the floor as the undead made a swipe toward Kerry. He scrambled back against Miles, staring wide eyed up at it, before feeling Miles' arms under his own, and his panicked voice screaming for him to get up. They scrambled to their feet, before rushing out of the store by the front door, only for the alarm to ring, making them both freeze. "Oh God, oh fuck, oh sh-" he started rambling, before pulling back from the door as the zombie slammed against it. "Oh, fuck, Kerry what do we do?"

"We have to get out of here," he said, before slamming the crowbar toward Miles, watching him hold it in confusion, turning and running. "Come on!" he yelled back, hearing Miles' frantic footsteps behind him over the alarm. There had to be another gate down this street. There was always two for small towns like this. Two drop off points for military and any supplies. He panted as he ran, mind racing, before yelping as a few zombies stumbled out of alleys, reaching for them. Miles swung, hitting one in the arm, before darting ahead of Kerry, making Kerry's eyes go wide. He was leaving him. He was leaving him. He watched the brunet throw the crowbar over the fence, before scrambling up and hoisting himself up over it, landing on the other side, before turning to look at Kerry, eyes darting behind him. He didn't want to look he didn't want to look he didn't want to look.

"Come on!" he yelled, and Kerry sped up as much as he could, feet pounding against the pavement, trying so hard to ignore the groans and moans behind him. He jumped up and grabbed the top of the fence, before trying to pull himself up, yelling when he felt something grab his foot. He pulled his leg up, then kicked whatever it was, feeling the fence move, and arms grab his, pulling him over and onto the ground below. He landed on his feet and turned to look at the horde of undead that had followed them through the streets, heart racing and adrenaline kicking in. He felt Miles grab his arm and pull him off into the trees, and he followed, running and trying not to think about how close he was, how close they were, how he could have gotten bit, how he could have broken his promise, almost broken his promise.

They eventually slowed down, panting heavily and covered in sweat, and Miles immediately bent over, resting his hands on his knees, shaking slightly. Kerry stopped behind him, trying to catch his breath, hands shaking as he looked down at his leg. No bite. He looked back up to Miles, watching him move to run his hands through his hair, face pale. "Oh my God that was so close..." he said, voice cracking a little. "That was so close we could have-"

Click.

He turned to look at Kerry, eyes going wide when he saw the gun, opening his mouth a little. "Go," Kerry said, brows drawn together and hands holding the gun tight, finger resting on the trigger. "Fucking go, or I'll shoot."

"Kerry-"

"No!" he yelled, feeling the adrenaline drain and anger take his place. He almost got them killed. He went out the fucking door and triggered the alarm and almost left Kerry behind and he could have died and it would have all been this idiot brunet's fault. "You're dead weight to me! Just turn, leave and never fucking bother me again!"

Miles stood there, staring blankly at Kerry, before glancing away, swallowing and nodding. "O-Okay, okay, I-I'll go..." he said quietly, holding his hands up as he backed up, looking down, before turning and dashing off, leaving Kerry a shaking mess behind him. Kerry lowered his gun, putting the heel of his hand against one of his eyes as they started to fill with tears, chest heaving as he tried not to start crying.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... I almost died I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."


	3. Will You Run Away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how am i writing this much? we just don't know .3.

Days seemed to blur together after that unfortunate incident, and Kerry wasn't sure where he had ended up wandering after he split up from Miles. He just seemed to walk and walk and walk, the reality that had been following him (were they even following him anymore? he didn't even know) was catching up and all he knew was go, walk, get away, farther, farther away. Maybe he'd just head completely north, past Dallas, maybe past Oklahoma, maybe he wouldn't stop, maybe he'd wind up in Canada and he'd just freeze to death. Maybe. He was drawn away from his thoughts by the throbbing in his hand, cursing and holding it up, looking at it. It was the cut he got when they were climbing through the window of that hardware store (why did he do that), and now it looked infected since he hadn't cleaned or bandaged it (stupid stupid stupid). He carefully ran his fingers over it and cursing under his breath, pulling his hand away and sighing. Maybe he'd find some bandages and cover it up, at the least. Maybe he wouldn't and he'd end up getting splashed with blood. Maybe he'd turn. Maybe all of this was useless.

Kerry spent the night in a small farm house on a huge plot of land on its own. It wasn't exactly falling apart but it wasn't exactly in the greatest condition. He sat down among the old hay and pig troughs, looking at his hand and trying to will away the growling in his stomach. How long had it been since he had eaten? He still had some water, at least, even if he had run out of food. He opened his backpack and dug around, pulling out his pistol and some bullets, before finding the last water bottle he had at the bottom, pulling it out and looking at it. He opened the cap and took a drink, sighing and putting it back up. Got to conserve it. 

It was hours before he finally managed to nod off, only to wake up minutes later, the cut on his hand stinging and throbbing in pain again. The sky outside was still dark, the stars twinkling and the moon bright, and he found himself just staring at them, that empty feeling swelling in his chest again.

_"Look at the dick, Kerry!"_

_"You're like five years old."_

He looked down and back at the hay around him, breathing picking up again, before he laid down properly, holding his hurt hand to his chest. He had managed to nod off again, only to wake up minutes later, and the cycle repeated for what seemed like a lifetime before the sun finally peeked over the horizon and the black sky was painted red and orange. Kerry's body ached and felt like led, his head pounding as he stumbled to his feet and grabbed his backpack, managing to find his way out of the barn and back across the fields to the road. His shoes made the only distinguishable sound he could hear, a faint crunching on dirt and asphalt, and it was so strange for him to feel so empty and lonely.

Lonely.

"You didn't have to do what you did."

Kerry whipped around, eyes going wide at the figure before him, at the brown eyes and dark hair in front of him, before turning away. "Y-You're supposed to be-"

"I am," the figured said, shrugging and smiling a little. "You're just fucking crazy, Kerry."

"I-I don't need this..." Kerry choked out, breathing picking up, before he turned to continue walking along the road, not facing the person behind him, but feeling their look on the back of his neck. "You're not supposed to be here."

He heard a sigh. "You're not supposed to be doing this, Kerry. You promised me you'd live."

"I am alive. I'm perfectly alive. I fucked up, but I'm alive what more do you want from me?"

"I didn't say alive. I said live. You're surviving, you're not living. Shutting people out and chasing them off is not living."

"If dealing with people if how I need to live, then I'd rather die."

"You know you wouldn't do that."

Kerry snorted, picking up his pace. "How do you know that?"

"Because I know you."

"If you knew me you'd know why I don't want to be involved with people."

"You're just being an angsty teenager."

"No, I'm not," he said under his breath, practically running at this point, his vision going fuzy.

"Yes, you are. We've all lost someone. Get over it and move on and live your fucking life, instead of whatever bullshit you're doing now."

"I don't want anyone else to leave me!"

"No one's going to leave you!"

Kerry stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, tightening his hands. "You left me!" he yelled, opening his eyes and turning. No one was there. A breeze fluttered by and ruffled his hair, cooling the sweat that had pooled on his temple and picking up the strings on his jacket. He panted softly, looking around, before rubbing his eyes as he felt them burning, turning and continuing along the road. As he walked, he swore he heard the wind whisper "I'm sorry".

* * *

Kerry wandered for what felt like weeks, the cut on his hand getting worse, the stinging starting to hurt more than a dull throb, the voice that had began to talk to him getting more and more talkative. He tried not to talk back, he knew it was all in his head, knew it was just some kind of psychological break and he was just loosing his fucking mind being alone like this, being hurt and starving and damn near dehydrated, being stressed and paranoid and anxious that at any moment, they would find him and they would get revenge for what he did.

"I didn't mean to," he mumbled under his breath, watching his torn sneakers move across the concrete, the shoelaces frayed and dirty, canvas falling apart. 

"I know you didn't."

He glanced over, seeing the figure of his best friend next to him, but he only hear one set of footsteps, before looking back down to his shoes, heart aching painfully. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm not doing anything," they said. "You're the one imagining me in your head. You're doing this to yourself."

"I don't believe that. I'm not crazy," Kerry said.

"No, no you're not... You were the sane one between the two of us."

Kerry ignored the remark, continuing his walk down the road, his hand tight on his backpack straps.

"You're scared they'll find you and kill you."

"No, I'm not," he argued. "I'm not scared of them. And I'm not scared of dying."

"Then why are you still running? And why did you freak out so bad when you ran into that kid?"

Kerry frowned, holding his straps tighter. "I'm not scared."

"You've always been scared of something, Kerry. And you've always been scared of dying, no matter what you tell me now."

He glanced up, seeing an old abandoned house, walking toward it to hopefully duck into it for the night, finding a broken boarded up door and looking back at the sky. It looked like it was going to rain. He sighed heavily, before going into the house and heading upstairs quickly, finding the first room and slipping into it, setting his stuff down.

"You haven't denied it. You know it's true."

"Leave me alone," he said out loud, sitting down and holding his stomach as it growled painfully, feeling bile rise to his throat slightly, before he swallowed it down. 

"You're scared of dying, Kerry. That's why you're still running, why you still look at your head and wonder when it'll be too late to clean it, why, despite having a gun and ammo, you haven't just offed yourself now."

Kerry's hands shook at the accusations, his breathing get a bit harder. He grabbed his backpack, digging through it before he pulled his pistol out of it, looking over the metal and holding it tight in his hands, before pulling the clip out. Three bullets.

"You know you could never do it. Go ahead, try. You'll never be able to pull the trigger. You're too scared."

He let out a soft, shaky breath, eyes filling with tears as he held the gun, turning it so it faced him, resting the tip against his forehead, panting heavily as he squeezed his eyes shut and held the trigger under his finger. His hands shook at the thought of pulling it, of shooting himself, of finally leaving this hell hole of a planet, to not have to deal with all the bullshit he's been through. Maybe he'd see his best friend again. Maybe he'd see his parents. Maybe.

"Don't pull it."

The voice was softer, but still familiar, and he froze, pulling the gun away from his forehead, tears falling down his cheeks as he stared at it, before dropping it and putting his hands over his face. He slowly laid down, wrapping his arms around himself, curling up and facing the wall, eyes slowly closing.

"Go to sleep. It's okay."

The same voice. It wasn't his best friend's voice, but he still recognized it from somewhere. Whoever's voice it was, he listened to it, closing his eyes and curling up a little more, falling asleep quickly.

* * *

_"I don't think this is very safe," he said, looking up at the person above him, taking the hand that was offered to him, climbing up to the roof with him. "What if we get surrounded?"_

_"We've got enough bullets between the two of us," they said with a smile, turning to look at him. "You're too scared of everything, Kerry. Learn to live a little."_

_Kerry snorted and glared at them. "Gee, I wonder why I'm so scared."_

_"Cut it with the attitude. We'll be fine, come on," they said, before climbing up the last ladder that led to the very top. Kerry followed, his heart racing in his chest at the idea of being so far up, before pulling himself up onto solid ground, eyes going wide._

_"Wow..." he breathed, looking across the scenery in front of him, setting his backpack down as he did. "This is incredible..."_

_His friend smiled over at him and looked across the horizon. "I know, right? Perfect place to just take a breather, isn't it?"_

_Kerry nodded, almost robotically, a smile spreading across his face. "There's so much for miles... Who knew there was so much out there..."_

_"They say there's a lot out there... There's survivors, safer quarantines, less undead, less risk... I'd love to go out there and find these places..."_

_"That sounds like suicide," he said, sitting on the edge of the roof and dangling his feet over the side. "What if something happens to you?"_

_"Well..." they trailed off, glancing over at Kerry. "That's why you'd come with me..."_

_He looked over at his friend. "What?"_

_"Come with me. We'll go together. We'll find somewhere safer and happier to be together, and then we'll never have to worry about being apart again."_

_Kerry stared, eyes wide and mouth agape. "I... I don't know if we should it's so dangerous out there... We don't go outside of the walls very far, and you want to travel far. W-We could really get hurt."_

_"But we could also make it without a scratch. We'll never know until we try, Kerry."_

_He turned from his friend, back out to the horizon, looking over the silhouettes of buildings against the sunset, before sighing, biting his lip and looking back over at them and smiling. "Let's do it"_

_That earned him a wide smile. "I knew you'd agree, Kerry. I know you better than anyone."_

* * *

Kerry woke up with tears in his eyes, his throat burning as he stared at the wall in front of him, before choking back a sob, putting a hand over his mouth. His heart was pounding in his chest, deafening in his ears as he laid there, trying to calm himself down. Why was this happening to him? Why was he having dreams of them now? Was all he was going through not enough for whatever fucked up God there was out there? He knew he messed up, he knew he messed up fucking bad, but he didn't need a constant reminder in his sleep, the one place he hoped he could get away from it all. 

He stayed laid down on the floor, sobbing dryly and silently into his hand, before he managed to pull himself up, looking down at the cut on his hand, curling his fingers slightly and flinching. He could hear the crickets outside, chirping in the grass as the moonlight fell across the room he was in. Kerry sat there, staring at it all, before pulling himself up, grabbing his backpack, his limbs like led and head like a storm, heading downstairs and out the backdoor of the house. The least he could do was continue on, since he knew he wouldn't get back to sleep now. A breeze blew by, rustling his hair a little, and he shivered a bit, holding his arms around himself. It was much cooler at night, and while the jacket he had was still pretty well put together, it wasn't thick enough for how cool it had managed to get. It was probably autumn soon. Maybe he actually would freeze to death, then.

"You look cold."

He didn't look back this time, just kept walking with his head down, eyebrows pushed together and his eyes glued to the concrete he walked on, still holding his arms around himself. 

"You should get a bigger jacket. You don't want to freeze to death..." the voice trailed off, before he heard a hum. "You look exhausted. You haven't been sleeping well."

' _Because of you_ ,' was the unspoken words on Kerry's lips, his heart aching painfully at the thought.

"Have you been eating? Maybe you should eat something..."

Kerry held himself more, walking faster, trying to ignore the voice. It was all in his head, but that voice almost got him killed.

"You shouldn't be out like this at night, Kerry. It's dangerous."

He thought of the zombies- grabbing him, biting him, ripping him apart, how painful, but somehow, how relieving it'd be to finally feel death's cold embrace after so much of his life had just continued to go to shit. The images made him shiver more.

"Don't think like that."

"Get out of my head."

"I can't. You won't let me," the voice said. 

Kerry shivered and walked faster, panting softly and trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes, the hollowness in his chest, the churning in his gut. 

"You won't let me leave your head. We both know you never will. You don't want to give me up. You don't want to live me down. You don't want to forget what you've done. You want me to haunt you for as long as you live."

"Just leave me al-!" he started to yell, before his foot caught on a pothole and he fell, face first onto the concrete, his hands barely moving in front of him to catch himself. He sobbed into the ground for a moment, his hands and knees stinging and warm with blood, his nose scratched up and entire body aching, shaking as it started to rain. He sat up, choking back his tears, before he grabbed his stomach, emptying the bile in his system, watching with blurry eyes as the rain washed it away, sobbing and holding himself. Kerry looked up at the sky, eyes filled and overflowing with tears that mixed with the rain water running down his face.

"Get up," a gentle voice echoed in his head, the same one from the previous night, and he sniffled, looking back down. "Come on."

Kerry finally stood after what felt like hours, his knees and hands aching, blood staining his clothes and running down his legs and arms. He stumbled his way to a small shack on the side of the road, ducking into it and immediately collapsing onto the ground, curling up and sobbing again quietly, the rain pouring down outside, thunder rattling in the distance. There were sharp pains in his stomach and his throat felt dry, and part of him didn't even want to look at his hands and his knees, didn't want to see the blood and he damage that he knew he wouldn't be able to clean and bandage properly. He wondered if this was how he was going to die- curled up on the floor of some dirty shack in the middle of nowhere, knees skinned and stomach empty, no one around, no one to give him even a shred of company before he died.

He thought of Miles, and he felt a cold chill creep up his body, making him shiver more, curling in on himself and shaking. Why did he think of him? Why him, why now, why was he so cold and why did he actually feel some kind of shred of regret deep in his chest? 

His head started getting fuzzy, among the storm of thought, and he felt consciousness slowly slipping away from him. And before he was completely gone to the world, he swore he felt a hand smooth his soaked hair down.

* * *

"Well. What do you know? We managed to find you."

Kerry's eyes shot open at the loud voice, his heart jumping into his throat and his gut dropping. He scrambled to sit up, looking up at where the voice had come from, a tall, bulky man, a rifle strapped to his back and a pistol hanging from his belt loop. No. No no no. 

"It wasn't very smart of you to run now, was it?" he asked, eying Kerry with a smug smirk, arms crossed over his chest, his figure blocking the only exit. "Then again, it wasn't very smart of you to shoot our man, either. I suppose either way, you had it coming, didn't you? For a while, we didn't think we'd find you. But oh, it wasn't very hard between the trail of empty cans and blood," the man said, tapping his fingers against his upper arm, looking down at Kerry, who shook and pressed himself back against the wall, trying to look as small as he could. "And now you'll finally pay for what you did."

"I-I didn't mean to-"

"Jacob, Taylor, grab him."

"No, no, no, please!" Kerry screamed, trying to back away and shake off the two sets of hands that reached for his arms, kicking as he was pulled up off the ground and drug outside. "Let me go, let me go! I didn't mean it!"

"Oh shut up, kid," one of the men said, throwing him to the ground and grabbing his wrists, pulling them back behind him and tying them together with a partially broken zip tie. The concrete reopened the scabs that had began to form on his knees and hands, a sharp pain traveling up his body, before he was grabbed by the hood of his jacket and pulled back to look up at the leader of their little trio.

Kerry's breathing picked up, and he started crying, tears falling down his face as he started frantically shaking his head, pulling at his binds. "Please, please, no, please no."

"You knew the rules getting involved with us, Shawcross," the man said, taking out his pistol and pulling out the clip to check his ammo. "You knew the punishment for backstabbing us was death."

"I didn't want to do it!" Kerry screamed, seeing the face of his best friend behind the man. "I didn't want to shoot him!"

The man loaded the gun and cocked it, then pointed it down to Kerry, aiming right for his head.

"Just let me go! Please, I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I don't want to-"

The gun went off, making Kerry's ears ring, but there was no pain, no red, no black. He felt his labored breathing in his chest, heard his pounding heart in his ears under the ringing, his eyes wide up at the man. He saw a mess of brown hair and long limbs tackle him, the gun falling out of his hands and landing next to Kerry, saw the two bodies hit the ground, and heard a series of indistinguishable shouts. He just watched, dazed with the fear he felt moments ago still pulsing through his body.

"Get off of me-" he heard the man shout as his hearing started to clear up, then heard a crack, seeing red stain the concrete, watching the brown haired figured scramble off of him and grab the gun in front of him. "You little fuck-"

"Come any closer and I'll fucking shoot." He knew that voice. "I'll shoot, I swear to God."

He heard an angry huff, seeing a body stand, hearing a heavy pair of footsteps. "Yeah? I don't think you have the fucking guts. You and the rat will both get shot if you don't just give me the gun and walk off. I'll forgive you for breaking my nose, but this isn't any of your fucking business."

"Get the fuck back!" whoever had saved him yelled, their voice shaking. 

He heard the footsteps get closer. "Give me the fucking gun, kid, and no one will-"

Another gun shot rang, making his heart bolt into his throat, eyes filling with tears again and his ears ring. He stared straight ahead, before the body of the man fell in front of him, a small hole in his forehead where blood was leaking out, his face dead and blank, his nose cracked and bloody. Kerry sucked in a few breaths, before trying to pull at the zip tie around his wrists. "N-No, no, no-" he started chanting, before he felt hands on his wrists. "No, no, no! Let me g-"

"Kerry, Kerry," he heard. "Kerry, it's just me. It's me, Miles."

Miles.

He nodded silently, feeling Miles start to saw the zip tie off of him, before he felt it fall off of his wrists, and he pulled his hands around to the front of himself, before scrambling up onto his feet, staring down at the dead body in front of him, before back at Miles. He looked the same as he did days ago (or was it weeks now?), but his eyes looked frightened, his hands shaking. He was still holding the gun. Kerry looked him up and down, hoping, praying, that he was real, that he wasn't just imagining this, his vision going fuzzy as his adrenaline slowly caught up to him. "M-Miles..." he managed to say, before it crashed on him, the world blacking out to him as he fell forward, hearing Miles shout.

" _At least you're alive._ "


	4. Ringing In My Head, When You Broke My Chest

When Kerry finally came to, it was dark. There was a faint light coming from the corner of the room, casting shadows across the walls and making the space seem just a bit warmer, even if it was only because of the orange glow from the flame. His eyes were trained to the ceiling, watching the light move and flicker, listening to the creaking of the foundation, the buzzing of the bugs outside, his own breathing, before turning his head to the side, eyes going a bit wider. Miles was leaning against the wall, fast asleep with his chin resting against his chest, bandages and ointment sitting next to him, a rag or two bloodied and muddy. Kerry's backpack was tucked neatly next to him, the pistol shining in the faint fire, and he glanced back up at Miles, seeing him shift a little, before holding his hands up to look at them. Bandaged. And they didn't sting anymore. Kerry took a breath, sitting up and groaning quietly, looking at his knees. Wrapped in bandage. The knees on his jeans were ripped and still stained, but he could deal with that. He sighed, his heart conflicted. Miles was annoying- he was careless and clumsy and loud and almost got him killed, but... He was compassionate and loyal and brave and he saved him. He didn't have to do that. He didn't have to tackle that guy like that, didn't have to point the gun at him, didn't have to untie him and possibly carry him back here to clean up his cuts and bandage them. He didn't have to kill for him, either. Miles wasn't obligated to do any of that, but he did. Just because he could.

 _'Because he knew it was the right thing to do,'_ Kerry thought idly, looking down at the floor, before looking up at Miles quickly when he saw him stir and heard him curse, watching him stretch and yawn, before opening his eyes and looking right at Kerry, a large smile spreading over his face. 

"Oh thank God, you're okay," he said, sighing and reaching for his backpack, digging through it and finding a bottle of water, handing it to Kerry. "Here. Drink up. You really need it."

  
Kerry took the bottle and looked at it, humming and opening it, before taking a few slow sips, eyes moving back to Miles. "How did you find me?"

Miles smile fell and he looked away. "I... I more or less followed you. I was kind of heading the same way, you know, so I just... kept to the same roads and stayed behind you at a bit of a distance. When I saw those guys tie you up, I knew I had to do something... Then you started screaming and I..." he trailed off, eyes getting far away and almost clouded over in thought, before he snapped out of it and looked back up at Kerry. "You passed out, so I carried you to a house down the road. I cleaned up and bandaged your cuts... Looks like you took a nasty fall somewhere."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I tripped. On a pothole. Fell and skinned my knees and hands."

Miles nodded silently, looking away. "Um. I got your things," he said. "You didn't have any food so I didn't know if you ate it all or someone took it-"

"I haven't eaten in a while," Kerry admitted, frowning a little. "I ran out of food."

"Oh. Um. Do you want something?" Miles asked quietly, getting Kerry's attention, seeing his brow furrowed in concern. "B-Because you don't look really good."

Kerry looked at him for a moment, before nodding and looking down. "If... If that's okay, yeah."

Miles smiled at him, before grabbing his own backpack and digging through it, mumbling quietly to himself as he did, before pulling out a can and popping the lid off, handing it to Kerry, before digging around and finding a plastic fork. "Here. Take small bites. Eating a lot right after not eating for a while is really dangerous," he said, sitting back and watching him take a few small bites. "So... I guess I'll help you kinda... Get back to being okay, then we'll part ways again," he said softly, looking down at picking at a string on his jeans, Kerry's gut sinking at the idea. 

"N-No," Kerry mumbled, watching Miles look up quickly, eyes wide. "Uh... A-At least lets get to Dallas. I... I have to pay you back somehow for this."

The older of the two sat there for a moment, staring at Kerry, before nodding and looking down. "Yeah. We'll stay here for a little while. So you can heal up and get your strength back, then we'll head out," he said, and Kerry nodded in agreement. It wasn't the safest idea, but he knew it'd be more of a risk for him to go out like that. He'd just be dead weight. 

Kerry picked at his food slowly, before glancing over at Miles, seeing him looking down at his hands, before looking back up at his face. His eyes were far away, spacey and clouded over in thought. He knew that look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he answered silently, clenching his hands. "I... I guess."

He knew it was dumb to do, to mention it, but he knew what had to be running through Miles' head- he had been there. He had seen it. "It's because of that guy, isn't it?" he asked, seeing Miles tense up. "It's because you shot him."

"I-I killed him," Miles managed to choke out, glancing up at Kerry, his eyes wide. "I... I shot him in th-the head and I ki-killed him... B-But he ju-just kept getting closer a-and I didn't want him t-to hurt you..." he mumbled, before looking back down, his brows pushing together in thought as his hands started to shake. "I... I just pulled the trigger. And then he was dead..."

Kerry watched him, heart aching with concern. "I know," he said softly. "The first time you kill someone... It's never easy..."

"Does it get easier?" he asked quietly.

"No, not really," the blond answered, staring down at his food. "They say it does, but... It never does."

He could feel Miles' eyes on him, watching him and he could practically hear the gears turning in his head, trying to decide what to say next. "You... You shot someone... Didn't you?"

Kerry froze, his blood running icy cold at the question, gut twisting and churning and heart stopping, his hands holding the can of food tighter. "I... I don't want to talk about it," he said quietly.

 _"You'll have to talk about it eventually,"_ he heard the voice of his best friend in the back of his brain.

"I understand," Miles' said, his voice coming over clearer and louder than the one in his head, something he was almost too grateful for. "There's a lot of things I can't really talk about either." Kerry looked over at the brunet, seeing him smile a little back at him. "But... Maybe one day. Right?"

"Yeah. Maybe one day."

* * *

 

Miles wasn't as bad of company like Kerry had initially believed. Sure, he was still talkative, but now that Kerry didn't have a metaphoric cloud hanging over him, it seemed to be a lot more enjoyable to listen to him. Miles was funny- the stories he told of him and his friends usually ended with Kerry laughing and holding his stomach and Miles telling him to be careful or else he'd end up laughing himself into a coma. During the day, when he wasn't out looking for food, he talked about the light-hearted things, about the dog he once had managed to keep in Austin that he named Watson and about the old couple that had been his unofficial adopted parents. It occurred early on that Miles' hopefulness and optimism had almost no bounds, as he was always talking about how that someone would find a cure, this would all be over, and maybe finally, finally, they'd be able to live like normal teenagers. Kerry, despite how realistic he was, started to believe him. 

But at night, when they were sitting and trying to sleep off the nightmares, a small candle all they had to light the room, Miles mood would drop, and he'd start talking about more personal things. About how he had wished he remembered his mom, how all of his friends had left or gotten bit, how the old couple that he had called his family had died when he was only ten. His voice would drop, his eyes would lower, his entire aura, the personality that Kerry had been so aggravated with for so long, would just vanish, and all that would be left in its wake was a scared kid who had seen too much, who should have never had to live through this. 

Sometimes, Kerry would share things to- he'd talk about his grandparents, the one that had raised him, about his best friend, about the people he called his family, about the things he used to do to distract his brain from the reality around him. He'd talk about his nightmares, about the things he had seen, the things he had to do, how his parents and his grandparents left him and the only other group he considered family had turned his back on him. But he didn't want to talk about what he had done, and there had seemed to be things Miles would avoid, too. They both had their fair share of secrets, and while Kerry knew this was the most he had opened up since he got kicked out of Austin (chased out was a better term, now that he had truly, truly thought about it), his heart was still too sore, those wounds were still too new, and even thinking about them made him sick. So he just tucked it away at the back, wondering if, maybe, one day, he'd trust Miles enough to tell him.

Maybe.

It was about a week before Kerry's knees had healed well enough for him to walk properly again, and once they did, him and Miles packed up and headed out. The clouds had moved on again, the sky clear and blue, but the temperature had started dropping. Miles had rolled down the sleeves on his button up plaid shirt, and Kerry had ended up zipping up the front of his jacket,  all in hopes of staying a bit warmer.

"We should find more clothes," Miles said softly, kicking at the dirt under his shoes, looking back at Kerry. "You especially need new jeans. Those holes are going to suck royally when it starts getting colder."

"Yeah... Maybe we could look for some kind of old store or something," Kerry said, humming and holding his arms around himself a little. "It'd probably work out pretty well if we find one by nightfall."

"Good idea," the brunet said with a smile. "Lets do that."

Kerry nodded and before the sun had set they had managed to find an old clothes store, the doors busted glass laying everywhere. Miles had frowned when he saw, sticking a bit closer to Kerry, who pulled out his pistol and loaded it. "Hopefully there's not anything in there," he said, looking up at Miles. "Do you want me to go first?"

"Yeah. You have the gun, after all," he said with a frown, before Kerry rolled his eyes, ducking into the store and trying to keep his steps quiet, looking around to make sure there were no immediate threats, before motioning Miles to follow. The brunet stepped in quietly, and they started walking around, checking the bottom level, before heading upstairs, looking around. "I haven't seen anything," Miles said softly.

"Me either. I think it's safe," Kerry said, putting his pistol up and grabbing a few empty clothes racks to barricade the stairs, before turning to Miles. "Let's look for clothes?"

Miles smiled and nodded, looking around and heading toward the first rack he saw, Kerry going in the other way, picking his way through jackets and shirts and jeans, before taking a few pairs for himself, holding them up to his hips. Hopefully those would fit. He turned, seeing Miles stripping off his shirt and he stopped, watching him, his cheeks slowly started to heat up, eyes following the lines of his shoulder blades and spine, before he looked away quickly, seeing him turn a little. 

"Hey, Kerry, I found a shirt with a dinosaur on it!"

Kerry snorted. "Find real clothes, Miles," he said, keeping his back to him as he pretended to look through the racks, glancing back at Miles' beaming face, watching him point to his shirt. "Okay, it's cool."

"Yes!" he cheered victoriously, smiling and turning to grab a couple of jackets and a coat, before turning back to Kerry. "Did you find new jeans?"

"Yeah, no holes," he said, before grabbing a coat and walking over to Miles. "And I got a new coat."

Miles nodded and hummed. "Well. Might as well make our camp up here for the night, right?" he asked, looking over at Kerry with a smile, before moving a bit further back, closer the the wall, before setting his stuff down, looking back to Kerry. "Good?"

Kerry shrugged and set his stuff down. "Works for me," he said, before sitting down and opening his backpack, digging through it and humming. He took out a few can of food, a few bottles of water, some ammo and his gun, before digging down to the blankets he had stuffed at the bottom, pulling them out and handing one to Miles. "Here," he said, before putting some of the clothes had grabbed down at the bottom of the bag, putting everything back on top of them.

Miles smile and wrapped himself up in his blanket, before humming. "Guess I should probably put my clothes in my backpack, huh?"

"It'd be a good idea, yeah," he said, looking over at him as he opened up his own backpack, taking out the things he had picked up on his own journey; food, water, medicine, bandages, a few batteries, a broken flashlight, a map, a small journal and the crowbar they had picked up at the hardware store so long ago. Kerry watched him, eyes catching sight of a small piece of paper that fluttered down and landed on the floor, reaching forward and picking it up. It was a photograph of a woman, brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and eyes shining, a bright smile on her face. Kerry stared at it, before turning it over. _'- Luna, 2014, Dallas, TX'_. He hummed and looked up at Miles, who was busy folding his clothes, before asking about it. "Is this your mom?"

Miles looked up at him, then at the picture in his hand, taking it back when Kerry offered it. "Oh, yeah. It is," he said with a smile. "It's the only picture of her I have. It was taken before the infection hit. Her and my dad lived in Dallas. It's how I know that I have to get to Dallas. I'm looking for the house in the background. I think if I can get there, maybe I can find out more... I can know her name... I... I really want that more than anything else."

Kerry watched him, before humming. "I guess I'm lucky... I remember my parents," he said softly.

"Yeah? What were they like?"

"My mom was the nicest woman I've ever known. I was still really young, but I remember her smile, her laugh, how she would hug me and sing to me when the soldiers were shooting at the undead outside of the walls. My dad... he was away a lot of the time. He had a job in another zone, and it demanded a lot of his time. But... I remember the days he was home. He'd play ball with me in our cramped little apartment, we'd go on walks, play in the only playground we had in our zone. He tried. I know he tried. My mom did, too," Kerry said softly, before looking down, his gut churning. "I was only five when they died."

He could hear Miles shift, taking in a soft breath. "How'd they die?"

Kerry stared at the tacky pattern on the carpet, his eyes clouding over at the memory. "My dad got bit. A walker snuck in through a part of the city reckless teenagers would use to go in and out of, and he got bit on the job. Hid it from my mom, thought it'd get better. I remember him telling her this. It was only a little bite," he trailed off, feeling his blood run cold at the thoughts. "He turned that night. Bit my mom in her sleep. Then... They tried to get me..."

"Jesus..." Miles breathed.

"My screaming woke up the neighbors, and got the attention of whatever patrol was running rounds on the streets. I was locked up in my room, and they got in, and were just about to grab me when the officer shot them. Right in front of me. Point blank," he said, clenching his fists to keep them from shaking. "There was blood. A lot of blood. And bits of brains and it was everywhere. And then... There was me. A five year old just standing in the middle of the room, scared and crying and shaking and covered in his parents' blood. The officer took me out, cleaned me up, then found any family I had. I had some grandparents in another zone, so that's where I went. And that's where I stayed. They died when I was twelve, just from old age, and it's after that I... I found the gang I kind of ran with for five years."

Miles watched Kerry. "The people that tried to kill you?"

Kerry swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. They were like family to me. They took me in, showed me how to shoot and kill, scavenge and survive. Some of them were a lot older than me, were teens when Dallas fell, came this far south just to be in Austin. I was only thirteen, after all. They told me there was no use in believing that Austin would hold forever, especially if a walker snuck in and bit my dad like it did. I listened to them. There was only one other person who was my age..." His throat closed up and he bit his lip, feeling his anxiety rise just from thinking about it.

"Were you close to them?"

He nodded, silently. "I was. He was my best friend," he told him quietly. "We clicked easily. We were the only two there who were as young as we were. He was an orphan, too. His parents had died when he was a baby and his aunt and uncle were killed in a freak accident. He was sort of pulled into the gang like I was- no where else to go, no one else to take care of him. Neither of us could have done it alone. We talked a lot about the family we had lost, almost like it was the only thing we really knew. He was adventurous. We became those kids that snuck out of the walls to explore the outside. It was this risk I never really took before. But... It was amazing. There was so much, for so far. It was like a never ending sea of buildings. We'd talk about how we thought the world was before, what we would have been like had we been born then," he said, his heart warming a little at the thought. "He... was like a brother I never had. He always had my back, always knew what to say to make me feel better. And... I trusted him with my life."  
Miles was silent, his face somber and eyes trained on Kerry. "What happened to him?"

Kerry stared at the carpet, before taking a breath, letting it out and shaking his head. "N-No... I... I really can't talk about it yet."

"I understand," Miles said softly, before sighing and shivering. "We should get to bed... We've still got a long way in front of us."

"Yeah," Kerry said softly, nodding and shifting to lay down, grabbing his blanket and pulling it over himself. "Night, Miles."

"Night Kerry."

* * *

 

_He knew this street._

_His heart raced in his chest, turning in his spot and darting his eyes all up and down the block, trying to see past the fog and the mist, feeling the cold spray on his arms and face, starting to breath heavier. He knew this street, he knew where he was, he knew exactly what this was. He didn't want to see this again. He didn't want to relive this._

_"Kerry?" he heard his name being yelled, and he turned, looking back. Nothing. "Kerry?" He turned quickly, looking down the opposite way. Nothing there either. He kept turning and turning, hearing his name from every direction, his eyes burning with tears and heart jumping into his throat. He didn't want to see this again._

_"C-"_

_"Kerry!" he heard his name being yelled louder, hearing a shuffle of steps and the pounding of shoes against the concrete. "Kerry help!"_

_"I-I can't find you!" he yelled back, his voice almost catching in this throat. "I can't find you!"_

_"Kerry shoot them!"_

_"I can't see you!" his voice cracked again and the tears ran down his face, heart pounding in his chest. Please no. Not again please._

_"Kerry please they've got me Kerry shoot them!"_

_"I-I can't! I can't!" Kerry yelled, shaking as he tried to back away from where he heard the voice coming from, sobbing heavily. "I can't shoot them!" He stepped back once more, his back hitting something solid, something very warm and his breathing caught in his throat, his eyes going wide. "No, no, no."_

_"Kerry..."_

_Kerry shook, turning slowly and looking up at his best friend, his face sunken and pale, blood running down his chin, eyes blank. "Why didn't you save me Kerry. I saved you. You were supposed to have my back..."_

_"N-No..." Kerry choked out, covering his mouth and backing away, shaking his head as he stepped toward him. No no no. Not again not again._

_"Kerry..."_

_"L-Leave me alone..."_

_"Kerry... You killed me, Kerry..."_

_"N-No I didn't, I didn't kill you..."_

_"You killed me, Kerry... You didn't save me..."_

_"G-Go away..."_

_"Kerry..."_

_"Go away!"_

_"Kerry."_

* * *

"Kerry... Kerry. Kerry!"

"I'm sorry!"

Kerry sat up, his lungs burning as he panted, eyes filled with tears, hands shaking and stomach churning. His hands were gripping his blanket tight, heart pounding in his chest and his ears, and it took him a moment before he realized that there was a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped away, eyes wide. "L-Leave me alone!"

"Kerry, it's me!"

He stared at the figure for a moment, before reaching up and rubbing his eyes, panting and relaxing when he saw it was only Miles. "O-Oh... fuck, Miles, I'm sorry..." he said, stomach still churning. "I-I didn't mean to w-wake you up..."

"No, Kerry, it's okay," he said softly, watching him with concerned eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm f-fine..." Kerry muttered, rubbing at his eyes more, trying to wipe away the tears. "J-Just a bad dream..."

Miles frowned a little, before looking away. "Okay. It'll be sunrise soon. We should get ready to head out," he said softly, before shifting away from Kerry, grabbing his backpack and packing his things up silently, but Kerry knew he was wondering what the dream was about, and, even a smaller part, knew he had to tell Miles about his best friend. About what had happened. But not now. Not yet.

Kerry packed his things up silently, before standing, his legs still kind of shaky, his mind still racing with that dream, and he looked over at Miles as he stood. "Ready?" he asked him, holding onto the straps of his backpack.

The brunet looked up, and for nearly a split second, Kerry was sure he saw his best friend, making his heart jump into his throat. "Yeah," he said, sighing softly. "And... Kerry?"  
"Yeah Miles?" he asked, looking away.

"Sorry. About your bad dream."

Kerry stared at him, before looking away. "It's fine... Let's go."

* * *

It was days later before Kerry finally managed to scrape up the courage (courage? or was it just his wits?) to tell Miles about what had truly happened, what had been haunting him for months and months and months, although it all felt like it had been years ago. It was almost to nerve racking for him, to even think about telling Miles. He hadn't told anyone this. The only people who knew had been shot in the head and left behind to be picked at by the vultures and animals. Just thinking about it all, about how he had let him down that way, made him sick to his stomach, almost violently sick to his stomach. And it didn't get much better by the time they had found a place to stay for the night, watching Miles put his backpack down and pull out a few candles and a match, lighting them and leaning back on his hands, yawning quietly.

"H-He got bit."

The words fell out of his mouth easier than he ever thought they would, his heart jumping into his throat, stomach twisting. No. He wasn't going to get sick. He wasn't going to get sick. Miles looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, and Kerry could sense his confusion, see the gears turning in his head. "W-What?" he asked quietly, and Kerry sucked a breath in, before setting his backpack down, sitting down on the other side of the candles in front of Miles, eyes everywhere but his. 

"My best friend," Kerry said quietly. "He got bit... We were outside of the wall, and we were just fucking around in some old neighborhood blocks. Walking up and down there, laughing and telling jokes... We were being so stupid and careless, but we felt invincible and on top of the world... We got separated in an alley, and while I was getting myself unstuck, he got bit."

"Kerry, you don't have to-"

"I have to," he said, looking at him over the fire, before looking down. "We got back to camp and went to bed. He woke me up at midnight and showed me the bite. I remember not knowing how to feel about it. Then he handed me his gun and told me to shoot him. He helped me get some shit packed away in a backpack, told me that I had to leave, and never look back after I did this. He kept apologizing... Over and over again."

"You... You did it, didn't you?" Miles asked quietly.

Kerry stared and nodded. "I loaded the gun, took off the safety, and we went outside. There was a car yard outback, so we went there. Everyone else was asleep. He told me to aim for his head, just so we both knew it'd work. I did. Then he told me to live, made me promise to him that I'd live, and when I did, after I swore to him I would, he closed his eyes and... I shot him."

The air around them went still and stiff, almost suffocating Kerry, his words hanging heavy over them. Miles was silent, only the sounds of his breathing echoing off the walls, and Kerry looked up at him. "Y-You... shot him..." Miles murmured, watching Kerry. "You... actually shot him?"

"I... I did... After that it was... A lot of a blur. I remember hearing yelling, I remember running, I remember finally getting far enough away where I could stop. I sat down in some old gas station, pulled my legs to my chest and started crying. I don't remember how long I sat there, grieving and crying and sobbing and making a mess of my emotions and thinking about how I ultimately just threw away the only group of people I had been able to call a family, how I just killed my best friend... but... when I stood up and left, I wasn't the same. I wasn't the same person at all. I felt empty, I felt hollow and emotionless... And then. I just started to walk. And now I'm here," Kerry said softly, looking at Miles. 

"Wow..." Miles mumbled softly, frowning and looking at Kerry. "I... I'm sorry, Kerry..."

"It's okay," Kerry said, sighing and looking away. "It... It was months ago..."

"Something like that never just... goes away... It never is okay," Miles said quietly, looking at the candles. "I... I don't even remember my parents, but... I'm still so shaken up about them... Because it makes you think. It happened to them. It can happen to me."

Kerry looked up at Miles. "You never did tell me what happened to your parents," he mumbled.

"Well..." Miles said quietly. "The old couple I stayed with... They lived next door to my parents... When I got a bit older, they would tell me all they knew about them. They said my mother was beautiful and kind, she was like a walking ball of sunshine. Told me I had her personality and eyes," he said, smiling a little. "They said my dad was a tough man, well built and tall, but he treated my mom so well, and loved me, even though I was just a baby. They told me how wonderful they were to me, how kind they were to them, how they brought that little spark of hope to this world. But... I guess the world wasn't ready for that..."

"What happened?"

Miles' eyes clouded over in thought and he held his arms close to himself. "My dad was in charge of helping the zone tear down and fix old buildings. Apparently... a support beam fell and..." he trailed off, and Kerry could see the color drain from his face. "He didn't die though... And it was so early on that they didn't know... So they put him in the hospital. He was there for days and days, from what that old couple told me... Then, one day, his vitals flat lined. Lost too much blood, from what the doctors had said. It was only minutes after that he turned. They had to shut down that hospital and open up a small clinic. Even when I was there and about to leave, the hospital was on quarantine, still. Nearly nineteen years later."

Kerry felt his heart ache a little, frowning and watching Miles. "What... What about your mom?"

"After my dad died, she... she took it really hard. She'd spend a lot of time crying in bed, curled up on her side. A lot of the time she'd be too out of it to take care of me, and so the older couple did. Then, one day, they said they were just reading and minding their own business. It was spring. I had just turned one. My mom had been really quiet all day, from what they told me. Then... There was a gunshot." Kerry's gut sank at the statement, blood running cold. "They rushed into our apartment to see what had happened and found her dead on the ground with a pistol in her hand, and me crying in my crib. There was a note on the nightstand. She had written about how sorry she was, how hard it had been after my dad's death, how she just couldn't do it anymore... So, she shot herself."

"Oh... Jesus..."

"They told me all this before I turned sixteen. Thought I should know. It's the reason I... I can't kill them. I feel like... there's a cure somewhere. And if there is, then we would have killed thousands of people that... were just sick. Like my dad," he said softly. "Like... your parents."

Kerry watched Miles, before looking down. "Yeah."

"I don't want to turn like my dad did. But I don't want to have to resort to what my mom did. I'm stuck somewhere in between. Because either way we're all going to die. But, for now we're alive, and yeah, it's a shitty situation, but... I don't like thinking about the heavy stuff, the stuff that makes you wish you could be dead. That's why I'm like I am. It keeps me focused on what I'm out here to do. Get to Dallas. I think I'm just stupid," Miles said with a soft laugh, ruffling his hair.

Kerry looked back up at Miles and watched him, his hand ruffling his hair, eyes trained to the ground and full of pain, even with that small, broken smile on his face, he looked so tiny, so sad, and Kerry frowned. It didn't suit him. "I... I'm actually jealous..."

Miles' eyes raised to look at the blond, confused. "What? Jealous of me?"

"Well... You're keeping yourself going. You've got a reason to live, the motivation, the willpower. Despite the world falling to shit around us, you somehow still find a way to smile and be cheerful, and... live. I-I wish... I wish I had that," he said softly. "B-Because after Chris died, I felt like... I had nothing. He was all I had and then he was gone, and it was my fault. And even after I... I pointed that gun at you, and I told you to fuck off, I spent that week or whatever just thinking about that. I felt like I did after I left Austin. I used to have a reason to keep going, because I promised him I would, but God... I actually put a gun to my head and almost pulled the trigger," he said with a bitter laugh. "I'm jealous that you can find the good in this all. Because all I see is death, and pain, and disappointment everywhere I turn..."

It went quiet between the two of them, the air stagnant, but tense, thick and heavy with the words Kerry had said. He heard Miles shift, and Kerry glanced up, seeing Miles staring at him, a look of... confusion? Or was that pain? on his face. Kerry just stared at him for a moment, before looking down, sighing heavily. "I've never been like that..." he mumbled, to Miles, but partly to himself. "I've never been one to... do that."

"Don't... Ever pull the trigger," Miles told him gently, and it felt like a wave of deja vu, like he had heard those words before, somewhere, sometime. "I... I mean that's... Not my decision to make but, if my words have any weight to you, please don't pull the trigger. Ever."

The blond looked up at Miles, their eyes meeting, and Kerry felt like his chest was caving under his lungs and ribs and head, imploding almost. "Okay," he said, nodding, his voice quiet and shaky, watching Miles let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his hair. "We... We should probably get to sleep... We still have a lot of ground to cover," he told the brunet, watching him nod and lay down, facing the candles they had set up, his eyes clouded over in thought. Kerry hesitated, before pulling his own blanket over his shoulders and shifting to lay himself down, looking up at the ceiling. "Night, Miles," he said quietly.

"Night Kerry."

* * *

All in all, they made a pretty great team.

Kerry was stealthier and quiet, his steps were deliberate and his actions quick. His attacks were meant to kill, strikes in the brain and head priority if he could manage, anywhere else only if he needed to and secondary. He moved silently and made bullets and axe hits and stabs with his knife count. It was pure survival, plain and simple survival, from years of running with a gang in Austin, to the months of living on his own outside of the walls; he struck to kill, he shot to kill, he attacked to kill, not to cripple.

Miles, on the other hand, was a bit louder, not loud enough to attract a couple of walkers if he was going by pretty quietly, but definitely too loud for the stealth kills Kerry had gotten so used to. He didn't strike to kill, either; he carried a loaded gun on his belt, shining and glistening silver in the sunlight, but he never touched it. He carried his baseball bat, struck their legs out from under them, crippling them so they could only crawl to get him, giving him time to break away and run for it. But where he lacked in stealth and the guts to kill, he made up for in stupid, stupid bravery. Kerry couldn't climb fences as well as Miles could; he showed him that one time at Georgetown, and after that, Miles made it second nature to himself. He was quick, climbing up and hoisting himself over in seconds flat, landing and taking off quickly, another advantage he had. Miles was fast, in his hits, in his climbing, in his running. He could climb into an old quarantine, leaving Kerry behind to cover his back, and probably be leaving to come back to Kerry by the time he had himself up and over the wall. Miles was a great scavenger, better than Kerry would ever be; he could find food, water, medicine, bandages, whatever, twice as quick as Kerry. He even could brag about swiping stuff off the dead, which was downright stupid, but Kerry never told him that. Miles had survival in a gutsy, teenage way, in the immature, immortal way, despite them both knowing neither of them ever would be.

But it was nice; food wasn't plentiful, but it wasn't scarce for them, either. They had plenty of water, and a good cache of clothes for the wintertime, which was quickly approaching by the shorter days and longer, colder nights. Soon it wasn't just Miles in a plaid shirt. After a few weeks he wore a jacket on top, then a shirt under both of them, and a hat on his head. Kerry wasn't far behind in the slightest, adopting three layers and a baseball cap he had picked up at some random department store they stopped at, trying to fight off the chill. He didn't know how they were supposed to survive the winter; before it was easy, before they were in a quarantine, somewhat safe in a far less colder building with more than just a backpack full of supplies on their back. Winter was troublesome for Kerry to think about. He tried not to. 

It weeks before they managed to move on properly, away from the quarantines and into the open, hilly fields between Dallas and Austin, the winter chill picking up finally, and they went to bed one night dressed for fall, and woke up the next in three layers of jackets. It was obvious that Miles was bothered by the cold; he complained quietly and plentifully in the mornings when they rolled out of their makeshift beds and got ready to move, muttering about much he hated the winter, and Kerry didn't think he ever heard him complain so much at all since they met. It was almost a change of pace, if Miles' endless ranting first thing in the morning wasn't as annoying as he found his endless happiness before.

"Hillsboro." Mile's voice startled Kerry out of whatever day dream he was in, and he looked over at him, then at the sign he was looking at. Hillsboro, Texas. "Well, it doesn't seem like such a big down, but we can look around? Maybe find somewhere to stay tonight?" he asked, turning to Kerry with a smile, reaching up and fixing the beanie on his head, his hair sticking out from under his hat. "There should be a few bigger buildings, maybe a few places we can find some supplies."

Kerry nodded, shifting the backpack on his back, his shoulders aching under all the weight. "Yeah. Let's stick together, alright? Doesn't look like this place was quarantined, but doesn't look evacuated either. There'd be more military vehicles," he said, humming as they headed in toward the town. He reached and pulled his gun out of the holster, checking for bullets, before taking the safety off and sighing, following Miles quietly. The brunet sighed quietly as they walked, hand tight on the baseball bat he held, eyes glancing back at Kerry, a small smile on his lips, before he turned back to the road.

"We aren't far from Dallas," he said happily, his breath puffs of air in front of him, and Kerry could feel the enthusiasm and happiness radiate off of him. "I've been dreaming of this for years... I'll finally get to learn about my parents..."

Kerry smiled a little at how happy Miles was, before he heard a crash come from a nearby alley, his hair standing up. He grabbed Miles' wrist and pulled him over behind a nearby building, pulling him back far enough so he wouldn't be seen, before looking around the corner, watching the alleyway. A man stumbled out, cursing and wiping his hands off onto his pants, shaking his head and looking back into the alley. "For fucks sake!" he heard him yell, watching him intently as he moved into the middle of the street, before another figure moved behind him, clutching a gun in his hand. Kerry's eyes narrowed. "That was too close!"

"Y-Yeah," the other person said, shakily putting their gun into their pocket, and Kerry ducked back a little, motioning for Miles to stay quiet. "Jesus, I thought we'd get bitten..."   
The first man, taller with darker hair than his companion, nodded, sighing and running his hand through his hair. "Is Jon still back there?"

The other man nodded, his hair blond and short, his arms a lot bigger than his lanky friend. "Yeah. He's checking those bags that were on the walkers," he told him, then looked back over as a third man, Kerry could only assume was Jon, walked out, a rifle slung on his back. "Hey, anything good?"

"Some food, a couple of first aid kits, ammo," Jon listed off, smiling a little. "Considering how close we were to getting bitten, I'd say we made it out pretty well. Blaine had the right idea to check those walkers there."

The darker haired man nodded, before the blond - Blaine?- did. "Yeah, let's keep looking around?" the darker haired man asked.

Kerry moved back a little as they came toward where they were hidden, before his entire body froze as there was a crash behind him. He turned and stared wide eyed as Miles scrambled up, his beanie laying on the ground next to a knocked over metal garbage can, chest rapidly rising and falling. Kerry turned back to the street, watching the group come around the corner, the shortest, Jon, with his rifle up and pointed at them. Kerry gasped, stepping back. "W-Wai-"

"What are you two doing sneaking around?" he asked as his taller friend came around and cocked his pistol. "Are you bit?

"W-We're not bit," Kerry stuttered, wanting to look back at Miles, wanting to know that he's there and okay, but he couldn't take his eyes off of these guys. "W-We were just passing through, a-and we didn't want to run into you and start anything."

"Little late for that," the darker haired man said, eyes narrowing. "Where did you come from?"

"A-Austin."

"Long way from Austin. How'd you get on the other side of those walls."

"JJ, just leave them alone..."

"Hell no, Jon."

Kerry went silent, gears turning in his head for an answer, before he saw the pistol being pointed over his shoulder, eyes going wide.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

He heard Miles make a noise behind him, his heart stopping in his chest. "I-I'm ju-just..."

"Just what?"

"M-My b-b-"

Kerry slowly reached for his gun, hand freezing when he felt eyes on him. "Don't think about it."

"K-K-" he heard Miles stutter behind him.

"It's alright," Kerry told Miles, eyes narrowing at the trio in front of him. "Just let us go, and we're not going to bother you."

The one holding the pistol shook his head. "Last time we did that, we were followed back to camp and got half of our supplies stolen. We're not letting you go that easy."

Kerry frowned, eyes narrowing more as he watched them, before he heard a shuffle behind him, eyes glancing back at Miles. "Mi-" he started, before there was a gunshot, his ears ringing as he immediately went down, hearing a few yells and a scrambling of footsteps on worn pavement, his vision swimming for a moment. Was he shot? He didn't feel any pain.

Wait no.

He turned quickly, rolling over and sitting up, eyes going wide as he saw red. Miles. He scrambled up and over to him, hands shaking as he looked at the red stain blossoming on his shoulder, bleeding through his clothes. No no no. "Miles, no, oh fuck, no," he choked, breathing catching in his throat. His eyes were closed, his breathing a bit shallow. "Miles, Miles, oh God please don't," he begged, putting his hands over his wound, trying to apply pressure. "Oh, fuck, Miles, please, please... Please... Please don't leave me... Please..." His eyes shot up when he heard a groan come from the other side of the building, his heart hammering in his chest as he quickly pulling Miles up, trying to support him as he tried to walk toward the nearest building, his body shaking under Miles' weight.

"Kerry..." he heard him murmur weakly.

"It's alright, Miles, it's okay. I've got you," he told him, quickly heading in and groaning, biting his lip as he carefully leaned Miles up against a wall, moving to push a bookcase against the door to barricade it a little, before turning to help Miles again. "Come on, we gotta get you upstairs. It won't be safe down here."

"It hurts..." Miles' murmured, his body shivering against Kerry's as they headed up the stairs, every step like a mile to Kerry with Miles' weight on his back and the fear, the panic that he could lose him just as easily as he lost Chris. "M'shoulder..."

"I know, I'll help it," he told him, getting him into a room upstairs and letting him fall onto the couch, groaning loudly and clutching his shoulder as he laid down. Kerry helped him sit back up and get his backpack off, dropping it onto the floor next to the couch and kneeling next to it. "You need to get off your jackets," he said to him, starting to dig through Miles' backpack, his heart racing in his chest and beating loudly in his ears, his blood colder than the air around them. He stopped, his stomach churning when Miles stayed silent, and he looked over at him. No no no. "Miles," he said, scrambling back over to him and putting a hand on his chest. Rising and falling. He clutched at his shirt, before grabbing his knife and started to cut through Miles' jackets and shirt, hands shaking as he finally got to his bare, clammy skin. Blood. Oh God there was so much blood. He froze, before dropping his knife and sitting back, grabbing Miles' backpack again, his digging more frantic. Where were they? Where were their fucking bandages? He cursed loudly, panic setting in as his breathing became shallow and labored, hands shaking as he pulled thing after thing out, flashlights and empty bottles, food and batteries, that journal Miles kept that picture of his mother in. He pulled everything out, staring blankly at the empty bottom, his eyes focusing and unfocusing, before he pulled off his own backpack, throwing things and cursing, panic rising in his veins and setting his blood on fire, hot tears forming in his eyes.

Blankets. Towels. Ammo. Water. Canned food. No bandages.

No bandages.

He got back up, grabbing a towel and cutting it with his knife, before pressing it over the wound, looking at Miles' face, seeing the little puffs that meant he was still breathing. He looked back down, before pulling out an extra blanket, tearing it into a strand long enough, before wrapping it around Miles' chest the best he could to keep the towel on the wound, already seeing the blood soak through the dirty white fabric. It would get infected if he didn't do something quick. He looked out the window, eyes trained on the last speck of light on the horizon, before looking back to Miles. "In the morning," he murmured, before shifting to put his back to the couch, pulling his legs to his chest and shivering. He'd go look in the morning. He couldn't help if he got surrounded and bitten.

Kerry sighed shakily and closed his eyes, pulling his legs tight to himself and pressing his face into his knees.

_'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry :'))))) ITS BEEN MONNTHS IM SO SORRY I AM BAD AT THINGS.
> 
>  
> 
> [ follow me on tumblr! ](http://seanspooles.co.vu/)


	5. And Despite Everything, I'm Still Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all i have to say is im an awful human being. also this chapter is pretty long

The wind ruffled his hair, his hands tight on his knife and gun strapped to his thigh, eyes darting around the small gas station he finally decided to duck into. Kerry's shoulders fell a little at the miserable state of the interior, overturned shelves and broken windows. There was a hole in the ceiling, sunlight streaming into the building, casting rays among the dust and dirt he kicked up when he entered. He sighed and held his knife tighter, before starting to rummage through the shelves, pushing through boxes of detergent and canned food that had long past since expired, his heart falling a little at each expiration date he checked, tossing all of the bad cans to the floor and keeping the ones that weren't quite bad just yet, tucking them away into his shoulder bag. His breath puffed in front of his face, the wind picking up a bit and blowing another cold gust of air into the store, making him shiver as he kicked at some cardboard boxes sitting on the floor, rotting away in a puddle of water with some baby toys and dish soap in them, his eyes glazing over a little, before his guard was brought up by a shuffle at the front of the store. He ducked, pulling his knife from it's leather sheath, listening carefully at the noises. One step, one drag. Infected. His lip came between his teeth, pressing his shoulder against the shelf the most he could without overturning it as he waited for the walker to come closer, close enough so he could strike. He crouch-stepped back once as he saw the tattered remains of a pair of pants against a leg, before he jumped up, digging his knife into the back of the skull, listening to the walker's disgusting bubbling gurgles, before turning his knife and pulling it back out, watching the body fall to his feet, a useless mess of rotting limbs and decaying flesh. He frowned, before looking back to the shelves, then outside. It was getting late. He sighed and headed over to the shelves, giving them a quick look through, hands finding empty boxes that held pill bottles, medicines, ointments, lotions, bandages, but none of them actually containing what he needed. His heart sank, before he stood up straight, heading out the door and into the late afternoon sunlight, wind picking his hair up again. He glanced down the street, heart stuttering a beat when he saw the words " _Pharmacy_ " printed in big letters on the front of a building off in the distance, before shaking his head and turning to head through the alley, using the ladder on the side of the bricked building to get onto the roof, before pulling himself up on the AC unit, then across the small board he set up between that and the window of the building next to it, sighing heavily as he dropped himself into the small room, before heading down the hallway into the room next to the stairs, knocking twice, before opening the door.

A few coughs greeted his entrance and he sighed, frowning and closing the door behind him, shivering and moving the towel he had bundled around the foot of the door back against it, stuffing it underneath it. "Hey," a voice greeted him quietly, before there was another cough. Kerry sighed and frowned more, turning back to look at Miles on the couch. "How d-did searching go?"

"Nothing," Kerry murmured, setting his backpack down. "I got a few cans of food, but that convenience store has been run dry. I'll have to start out further tomorrow," he said, before grabbing a towel off of the coffee table he pushed against the wall and the bottle of water next to it, wetting the towel and heading over to Miles on the couch. "How are you feeling?" he asked, putting the wet towel against his forehead and sighing as he shivered.

"Fantastic," Miles said with a weak smile, before coughing again. "I think m-my fever went down..." he said weakly.

Kerry moved the rag back and pressed the back of his hand against Miles' cheek, frowning. He felt hotter than he did last night. "Yeah," he lied, nodding and sighing. "But you're still burning up, and that wound is still infected. You're not going anywhere anytime soon."

Miles hummed and nodded, sighing and closing his eyes. "'m sorry to put you through this," he mumbled.

"Don't start this again, I'm not leaving you," Kerry said, wiping down Miles' forehead. "I don't care what you tell me. I'm getting you to Dallas," he said, pulling the rag back and putting it down on the coffee table again. "How does your shoulder feel?"

"Sore," he mumbled. "Swollen. Hurts," he said, frowning and holding the blankets he had around him closer to himself. "You know. This funny in a really bad way."

Kerry looked at Miles, before glancing away. "How?"

"The dead are up and walking, have been for twenty years now. Just a scratch from an infected can kill you in a few days..." he said, chuckling quietly and shrugging, before groaning and shivering. "And here I am. Infected gunshot wound and a cold. I didn't think I'd go out like this."

"You're not going out like this, Miles," Kerry argued, his blood running cold at the thought. Miles couldn't. He couldn't leave him. He had to get to Dallas, like he always wanted, and Kerry was going to make sure he did. "You're not going to die anytime soon, Miles. I'm going to find you medicine and bandages and we're going to treat your gunshot and find you cold medicine, and you're going to be fine."

Miles stared at Kerry, before looking down, coughing again and sighing. "I think I'm going go to sleep," he mumbled, humming and shifting to lay down, shivering and coughing again, covering his mouth. "Can you hand me water?"

Kerry nodded and grabbed his backpack, pulling a water bottle out of it and handing it to Miles, watching him take a sip of water, before setting it down and curling into the couch more. A few minutes, and a couple of coughs later, and all he could hear were the small snores of the brunet, his heart aching at the idea of waking up in this hell without Miles next to him. He didn't want to be alone again. Kerry shrugged off the thick jacket he wore, laying it over Miles' torso, before getting up and grabbing one of the thinner blankets from his backpack, sitting next to the door with the blanket pulled around his shoulders and his legs to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He watched Miles sleep, before slipping his eyes closed and nodding off slowly, falling into a peaceful and uneventful sleep.

* * *

The sound of birds woke Kerry the next morning, and the blond had checked for Miles' breathing and left him some canned food and water, before leaving out the way he had come in the day before, feet hitting the floor of the gas station after jumping through the hole in the roof. He sighed, shifting his bag on his shoulder, before heading out through the broken front window, glancing down at the pharmacy in the distance, a small smile on his face. He headed down to it, jogging lightly as he thought about it. Everything over the counter would probably be gone, if he wasn't lucky, but anything behind the counter, where it was locked up, would be free game, right? Granted he found a way into there. Kerry sighed, heading into the pharmacy, hand finding his knife and holding it tight as he walked, glancing around, before his eyes went wide as he saw someone rummaging around in the shelves, ducking behind the counter. His heart began racing, a mild panic rising in his throat. This wasn't a walker, the steps were too timed. Too precise. Kerry's hand tightened on his knife, shifting back from the edge to hide better, listening carefully and hoping he wouldn't have to confront them. Walkers, he could deal with; the undead were predictable. Humans could have anything on them, a crowbar, to a gun, to a knife, and the risk of ending up bleeding out or dead in a pharmacy down the street of someone who needed him now more than ever was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

It wasn't long before the footsteps seemed to head out of the building, the soft crunch of glass alongside a quiet mumbling, and Kerry gave it a few more minutes before he peeked his head up and looked away. The place was pretty much cleaned out, overturned shelves empty and whatever was left on the ground was either empty boxes that once held bottles of over-the-counter medicine, or various types of junk food that had long since went bad. Kerry sighed and headed back to the pharmacy he came for, steps slowing and stilling once he saw the counter, the broken and bent security bars, then the rummaged and destroyed back office, his heart dropping. He carefully stepped forward, before wiggling his way behind the bars. A look wouldn't hurt. There were more overturned shelves, more empty prescription bags and boxes and bottles, everything from basic antibiotics to hardcore painkillers, gone and missing. He shifted through the clutter, his heart holding out for something. Amoxicillin or penicillin, something to help the infection he knew Miles had. But the more he dug, the more he realized it wasn't happening.

The place was absolutely picked clean.

His hands set down the empty boxes he had held, before heading back over to make his way thru the bars again, frowning as he got stuck, pulling back to toss his backpack and knife thru the bars first, before trying again. He was halfway through, before something grabbed his ankle,  making his blood run cold and a yell to bubble out of his throat. He kicked, looking down at the infected that had grabbed him, it's throat cut and jaw trying to make contact with his leg. Kerry's eyes filled with tears as he kicked more, trying to pull himself through the bars and away, panic rising in his chest as his coat got caught on one of the broken bars, his quiet pants of fear turning into whimpers and whines. Miles needed him Miles needed him Miles needed-

There was a sound next to his ear, then the walker that had a tight hold on his ankle crumpled back to the floor, and he pulled his coat free from the bar's hold, pulling himself back too fast and falling down on the safe side of the bars.

"Whoa, easy there!"

His panic set in again and he scrambled to grab his knife off his backpack, turning and holding it toward the man he heard behind him, blood running cold. It was the guy from the alleyway. The one with the rifle. Jon? He stood up quickly, holding the knife in front of him, his hands shaking far too much and cheeks too tear stained for him to even hope to be intimidating. "W-What are you doing what do you want?"

Jon held his hands up, that same rifle strapped to his backpack, eyes staring right at Kerry. "Hey, hey, I swear I'm not here to cause problems."

"Then what do you want?" Kerry demanded. "Last time I saw you and your friends, Miles got shot," he snapped. Did he consider Miles a friend? "Haven't you fucked me over enough?"

"I... Wait he actually got shot?" Jon asked, his face scrunching up in concern, appearing to be sincere about the question. Kerry didn't lower his guard. "Oh fuck, did... did he die?"

Kerry shook his head. "No, he's alive. He's got an infection, though. No thanks to you."

He could see the gears turning in Jon's head, before the man lowered his hands a little. "There's no medicine left anywhere in this town," he told him, shaking his head a little. "Blaine, JJ and I have cleared the entire place out. Everything that was here is gone." Kerry's heart sunk. No medicine here at all. Miles was going to die. "But... Shit, I have some medicine on me. Take me back to Miles, and I'll help you treat his wound and I'll even give you enough medicine to help him get back on his feet."

"And why would you do that?" Kerry asked. There was no kindness in this world anymore. Miles was the only one he truly trusted, the only one who was truly kind to him. "You're part of the reason I'm in the position in the first. Why would you help me?"

Jon's eyes softened, and he looked down. "Because I know it's the right thing to do," he said quietly, and he could feel how much weight that carried by the look on his face. Kerry glanced down, before lowering his knife, going to get his things back together. He heard Jon shift from where he was standing. "I have everything I need in my backpack. Part of me was hoping I'd run into you again."

Kerry's heart fluttered a bit. Miles was going to be okay. He stood up straight, putting his backpack back on and sighing, looking at Jon. "Well, let's head back, then," he said. "I don't want to keep Miles waiting there for much later. Name's Kerry, by the way."

"Jon," he said with a smile and nodded, before they headed out of the pharmacy, and back down the street. Kerry showed him how to get up to the entrance of their building, before heading into the room they were holed up in, knocking twice on the door and entering. The sound of Miles' coughing was the first thing he heard, and he frowned, letting Jon in, before moving to press the towel back against the crack under the door. 

"What's he doing here?" Miles asked, and Kerry turned to see the confused look on his face, sighing quietly. "W-Wasn't he the one from the alley?"

"His name's Jon, and yeah," Kerry mumbled, moving to shrug off his backpack, before coming to press his hand against Miles' forehead. "He saved me in the pharmacy, and he said he could help," he told him, before turning to glare at Jon. "And he better hold true."

Jon glanced away nervously, before moving to take off his backpack, sitting next to Miles. "Alright, first thing's first. You were born in a quarantine right?"

Miles nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. 

"Did they ever run tests to see if you were allergic to penicillin?" he asked, digging in his backpack while he waited. 

"Yeah, and I'm not," he said, glancing up at Kerry. Kerry shrugged. 

"Good, good," Jon mumbled, pulling out a couple of bottles, before humming. "Alright. The wound's on the shoulder? Need you to take off your shirt for me, and any bandages you might have already used to cover the wound."

Miles sat up with a groan, coughing and sniffling, and Kerry came over to help him get his jackets and shirt off, trying to ignore that pull in his heart when he saw the pain on Miles' face. Ignore it. Ignore it. He set his clothes down on the arm of the couch, wincing a bit himself at the blood soaked towel wrapped on his shoulder. "Good now, Doc?" Miles said jokingly, chuckling weakly and smiling a little over at Kerry, his smile fading at the face Kerry was making. "Hey, I'll be okay, dude."

Kerry sighed and nodded. "Yeah," he said softly, not sure if he was agreeing with Miles, or reassuring himself, but he nodded again and smiled a bit. "You'll be okay."

Jon hummed and pulled out a fairly clean rag, before a half-full bottle of hydrogen peroxide. "Alright. Uh. I feel like I need to warn you, that this will probably hurt. Pretty bad."

Miles sighed and shifted to lay back, looking up at the ceiling and nodding. "I'm ready," he said, glancing at Kerry, smiling weakly. 

Kerry managed a small smile back, before watching Jon pick up the peroxide, wetting the rag and glancing up at Kerry, before at Miles, who stared straight up at the ceiling. Jon sighed and moved to pull the makeshift bandage off of the wound, frowning a bit at how awful it looked,  red and swollen, painful looking. He set the bandage down, and Kerry moved to pick it up to toss it out, before Jon pressed the rag against Miles' wound. The brunet immediately jumped and tried to move away, and Kerry immediately dropped the bandage, moving to help keep Miles still. "Hey, hey, dude you need to stay still," he said as Jon pulled the rag away. 

Miles whimpered and moved his free hand up to his mouth, eyes watering. "O-Oh _fuck_ i-it hurts s-so bad..." he choked, before squeezing his eyes shut. Kerry moved his hand, taking Miles' in his and squeezing a little. "F-Fuck, dude I'll b-break your h-hand," he joked quietly.

"Occupational hazard," Kerry murmured, smiling a bit and squeezing his hand again as Jon shifted to put the rag back on his shoulder. "Squeeze when it hurts alright? And try to stay still. It'll be over faster if you don't move."

Miles nodded silently, his eyes still full of tears, before Jon started to clean the wound again, his body jerking a little before his fingers tightened around Kerry's. He whimpered quietly, lip between his teeth, and Kerry felt his heart break. It was for the best. It was fucking hell for him to watch, and he was sure Miles was in pain he didn't want to even imagine, but it was honestly for the best.

It felt like hours before Jon had finished cleaning Miles' wound, Miles looked exhausted all over again. Kerry's fingers felt achy and sore, his heart hurting a little less as Jon reapplied clean bandages to his shoulder. "Give him a couple of doses of the medicine every day for two weeks. In a couple of days he should be feeling a lot better," he said, sitting back and sighing. Miles was practically asleep now, his cheeks still wet with tears and hand curled up where Kerry's once was. Kerry's eyes lingered on him for a moment, before his attention was brought back to Jon. "I'm... sorry this happened in the first place. I hope this was enough to show that."

Kerry smiled a little and nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Thanks, really. I... I wouldn't have known what to do."

Jon smiled a bit, then glanced down, pulling out some clean bandages and food out of his backpack, sighing quietly. "Here's some stuff to keep you two going," he told Kerry, glancing out the window to see the sun getting closer to the horizon. "I should head out. I don't want to be out after dark."

"Yeah," Kerry agreed, standing up and leaving Miles' side to head to move the towel in front of the door. "Be safe getting back, okay?"

The brunet threw his backpack onto his back and headed over to leave, nodding. "I will. I'm not as loud as my friends," he said with a small smile, then headed out when Kerry opened the door, hand tight on one strap of his backpack. "Kerry?" he asked, turning back to him.

Kerry hummed and glanced up, foot in the process of moving the towel back to stuff against the door. Jon's eyes were sullen, a meloncoly look in them that Kerry had seen enough in his life to know, but still seemed a bit jarring on the face of someone so kind. "Yeah, Jon?"

"Please, if we ever cross your mind again," Jon started, sighing, and all at once he looked tired, weighed down by the things he had seen and the years he had lived like this. "Don't think we're bad people, that we're the ones that almost got Miles killed," he told him, and Kerry's heart ached for different reasons. He looked out for Miles, trusted him more than he ever thought he would, and Jon wasn't any different than him; looking after his friends and trusting them. "JJ and Blaine they're... they're good guys. But this world isn't merciful to people who are nice. They were only doing what they had to do to keep us safe."

Kerry could understand that; he resented them, he knew he did, before when Miles first passed out from shock and there was blood all over his hands. But now that Jon was standing in front of him, had done what he just did, he couldn't feel that same bitter anger, the swelling in his chest that made him want revenge, to make them feel as bad as he did. All he could feel was grateful. For saving Miles.

For saving him.

"I won't," he said softly, nodded and smiling a little. "I know they were. I don't blame them, or you. You've done what you could to repent for what you did. And I appreciate it. I know you aren't bad people. I won't think you are."

His answer made Jon's eyes pick up a bit and a smile crossed his face. "Thank you," he said, then glanced out the window again. "I need to go. Stay safe, Kerry."

Kerry nodded and smiled, watching Jon leave out the way they came in, before closing the door and moving the towel back in front of it. That night, after making sure he woke Miles for food and medicine, he laid away on the floor, eyes trained on the ceiling, wondering when he ever got so soft, so kind, and wondering what the sleeping brunet on the couch did to him to make him feel so human again.

* * *

It was a few days before the antibiotics kicked in well enough for Kerry to decide they needed to move on. Miles' cold went away along with it, his sniffles and fever disappearing nearly overnight. It made Kerry's chest ache less once Miles was back to his bouncy, energetic, happy self, despite how he rolled his eyes and put up a shield of mock annoyance. He didn't know when his very real annoyance became fake and a show just to keep up appearances, but whenever it did, Kerry was starting to truly question the kind of affect Miles had on him now. 

He didn't trust people, not since Chris, not since the gang turned on him. They were the only people he relied on, no one else being allowed to see him small and fragile and vulnerable. Trust wasn't his thing, not now, not ever. But Miles was easy to trust, with his smiles and his kind words, how no matter what Kerry managed to do (insulting him, pointing a gun at him, nearly getting him killed several times), he didn't judge him, that soft look in his eyes never shifted or changed to anything less than gentle. Miles wholeheartedly cared, and trusted Kerry with his life, even when he felt like all Kerry needed to do was leave him to die. He could compare him to Chris, but Miles wasn't Chris, they weren't each other. Chris meant everything to him, but Chris was dead. Chris got bit. 

Miles was still breathing, still warm, still there and smiling.

Kerry was scared to get to Dallas, scared that Miles would decide that it was where they should part ways, terrified he'd be all alone again. He didn't want to be left alone again, but more than anything, he didn't want _Miles_ to leave. He didn't want to watch Miles go, didn't want to think about him ending up dead, or worse. It was selfish, it was beyond unlike himself, but the more he thought about being left alone in this world outside of the walls of Austin, the more he wished they didn't have to go to Dallas.

They left one morning right as the sun was rising, their bags packed with food and medicine that Jon and JJ had come to deliver to them, whatever bitter resentment left between them gone now. The air was getting colder around them, and Kerry breathed a shiver, looking over at Miles, who didn't look as miserable as he did in the cold, Kerry's heart soaring a little at the smile on his face. "You look scary happy for someone who hates the cold."

Miles chuckled. "We're a day's walk from Dallas now, Kerry," he said happily, and Kerry felt his stomach churning painfully. "We're so close, how can I be miserable? Cold isn't bothering me!"

Kerry rolled his eyes and looked away, trying to mask the upset feeling growing in his chest, holding his arms closer to himself. "Well, we're going to have to find somewhere to stop half way. I don't want to be out after dark," he said, looking over at Miles. 

The brunet deflated a bit, pouting a little and huffing. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled. "I know, I know. We'll find somewhere to stay the night," he agreed, before his shoulders picked back up and smile crossed his face again. "I'm just so excited, Kerry. We're going to find out about my parents. I've been dreaming of this my whole life..." he said, his voice dreamy and wishful, and Kerry wished he wasn't so selfish, that he didn't wish that they'd never get to Dallas. He wished he didn't want to take this from Miles to keep him with him a bit longer. 

Kerry was selfish for feeling anything at all for Miles.

Hours passed of them quietly making their way along the old highway, grateful that most of the road signs were still up, all of them pointing them toward Dallas in one way or another. It wasn't long before the sun started getting close to the horizon, and Miles suggested they stop and camp out in some old high school that he could see from the highway, a large sign proudly displaying ' _Welcome to Midlothian, Texas!_ '. Kerry hummed and let Miles lead the way to the school, eyes scanning the area as they walked. It didn't seem like much of anything, or anyone, was left in the place. They were probably all evacuated to Dallas when the infection hit. He turned his attention back to Miles once they got to the school, the glass of the front doors broken, their shoes crunching as they ducked inside and looked around. There were some old notes and banners on the walls, the ceiling caved in at one spot, rotting insulation and ceiling tiles lay crumbling on the tile, lockers rusting next to them. Kerry sighed, eyes looking around more as they walked, Miles trying to navigate himself toward a safe place to rest for the night, flicking on his flashlight as they got deeper into the building. "I wonder what it was like to go to school like this," Miles mused aloud, trying a few classroom doors, but finding them locked. "I bet it was weird."

Kerry snorted quietly. "Yeah," he agreed, and he could almost picture it; teenage girls eating lunch together and laughing over some story, a couple holding hands as they walked down the hall, someone opening their locker to get a book or something for a class. It seemed so mudane, so boring. He wondered briefly if they ever hated it, hated getting up and going, having to see the same hallways every morning for years, wondered if anyone found love so normally, passing notes during math and giggling against the wall in the hallways, kissing before parting, if only for a few hours. His face fell, eyes looking down as they walked, feet kicking up dust and dirt. He wondered what it would be like to live like that, wondered what it would have been like to meet Miles under such safe circumstances, wondered what they would have been like. His thoughts came to a stop as Miles cheered to himself, opening a set of doubles doors and motioning for Kerry to follow. 

"Come on, these doors are unlocked!" Miles said happily, smiling wide and heading in, Kerry following close behind. It was dark, the only things illuminating any part of the room they were in were their flashlights. Miles sighed, flashing his light around, running it over bleachers covered in dust, banners hanging from the ceiling, wood floors rotting away. "Looks like a gym?" he asked, turning to Kerry. "The area I lived in Austin had part of an old high school open, one part was the gym. They used to hand out rations and other things there," he said, humming, shrugging. "Good as any other place, yeah?"

Kerry hummed. "Looks safe. We can get up high, build a small fire, it'd be safe?" he suggested and watched Miles nod enthusiastically. They climbed the highest they could and managed to pull up a few of the old wooden bleachers, breaking them down a bit smaller and starting a fire, setting up beds the best they could on the concrete steps that were left. Kerry sat close to the fire, holding his numb fingers over it and sighing, glancing up at Miles. He was flipping through the little journal he kept, smiling as he landed on the page where he kept the picture of his mother. Kerry's cheeks turned a bit red, and he looked down. 

Miles would have been popular in school, in a different time where the dead didn't roam the streets and humans were clinging to the last bits of humanity there was left. He was personable enough, that was for sure; Kerry was sure he wouldn't have any problems making friends. If that would have been the case, would Kerry even have met him? Would he be the same as he was now, trust issues and insecurities boiling over so he wasn't sure what he was without them? Or was this all circumstantial? Was his surroundings and experiences to blame for how he was? He pulled his legs to his chest, looking blankly at the fire as he thought, day dreaming up scenarios in which him and Miles were just normal kids, who lived normal lives, who met under normal circumstances and didn't have to fight to stay alive every waking moment. Maybe they could have fallen in love like that, been like those romance books Chris liked to find in old bookstores and smuggle back into Austin; holding hands, kissing under the stars, every gentle, loving look from Miles' brown eyes all for him, hearing those small three words. The ache in his chest grew, glancing back up at Miles, who was still looking through the journal.

Maybe he already did love him, or, at least something similar. Love didn't work right in this world anymore, too much risk for not enough reward. There weren't safe moments to fall in love and kiss under the night sky, no high school where you could pass love notes under the desks. But he knew he felt something for Miles, somewhere in his heart, knew he didn't want to leave him when they got to Dallas, knew he wanted to protect him the best he could, keep him safe, keep him from ending up like Chris. Miles meant something to him, Miles had a place in his heart next to Chris, next to his parents, made him feel something other than betrayal and loneliness, made him feel less awful about what he's done, about what he knew one day he'd do. He made him feel less like a monster and more like a kid that grew up where kids shouldn't.

Miles made him feel like a human. 

Kerry's stomach flipped and his heart skipped a beat at the realization, as Miles looked up, catching his eyes and smiling at him. Shit. "Hey, Earth to Kerry. You're getting kinda spacey over there. Everything okay?" he asked him, his face soft as he put his journal up, yawning and sitting back on his hands. "What's got you so deep in thought?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing away quickly, hoping Miles couldn't see the red that dusted his cheeks. "I'm okay. Nothing in particular really," he lied, shrugging and glancing back up at Miles.

Miles hummed. "The miles away look in your eyes would tell me otherwise," he pointed out, and Kerry's heart hammered. "What's going on?"

Kerry hesitated. Did he tell him, tell him how he managed to break every wall he put up, managed to break past all the trust issues he had, managed to make him feel less like he's been fucking up in this world since he was born? The soft concern in Miles' eyes had him opening and closing his mouth uselessly and stupidly, before he just closed it and swallowed thickly. "Just thinking."

"About what?" the brunet asked patiently, watching Kerry. 

"Just... everything, I guess."

"That's specific," Miles said jokingly, a small on his face, before it fell and he looked serious, eyes trained on Kerry. "But, really, what's wrong, Kerry?"

Kerry bit his lip and held his legs close. "I..." he trailed off. "I don't think I want to leave you when we get to Dallas," he admitted quietly, and he could hear Miles inhale quickly. There was a beat of silence before Kerry gathered his nerves to keep talking. "I-I know that's the only reason I came along, was to get you there and help you find out about your parents, and I know I agreed to split up once we did, but I..." he trailed off, words hanging on his tongue. "I don't think I want to be alone in this world again, Miles. I spent long enough on my own," he said, glancing up at Miles, his heart jumping into his throat. "And I don't want to lose you."

He saw Miles' face shift, first concern, then confusion, then, finally, understanding, his eyes softening as he watched Kerry. "You don't want to lose me?" he asked him softly, but the tone his voice sounded like he was almost saying it to himself, trying to understands the words, the implications, the meaning, behind them. Kerry didn't speak for a moment, too wrapped up in what to say next. "Kerry?"

"I don't," he said softly. "I don't want to lose you," he repeated, looking at Miles and searching his face for any kind of disagreement, any kind of anger or pain, anything that would tell him to shut him mouth before he said too much. But all he saw was Miles' kind face staring back at him. "I... I care, a lot, about you, Miles," he said, his voice threatening to go quiet as he said that, gut flipping nervously as his heart thudded loudly in his ears. "I really do. More than I have for anyone in a long time."

Miles looked small, smaller and more vulnerable than Kerry had ever seen him, his eyes a mix of emotions and his lips falling open in a silent answer, before he closed them. "I care about you, too, Kerry, I just..."

"Then promise me something."

Kerry's eyes were trained on Miles as the brunet stuttered silent, confused and lost as Kerry's gaze didn't falter. He thought of his parents, how they were bit, thought of his grandparents, how one morning they just didn't wake up, thought of Chris as he pointed the gun to his head, thought of all the people he's seen die, all the walkers he's killed, how everyone he's ever loved and cared about leave him in one way or another. "Promise me you won't leave me," he said quietly, and whatever tough face he had crumbled, and he felt like a lost kid all over again, like he was five years old again, crying in the corner of his bedroom, covered in his parent's blood, whatever repressed feelings of sadness and loneliness he had pushed down for so long bubbling back up to the surface. His eyes stung at the idea of being left alone in this world again, and he quickly moved a hand up to wipe at his eyes. "Just... Promise me that."

Miles was silent, his mouth open in dumbstruck horror, before he moved over to Kerry, wrapping his arms around his shoulder and, God, Kerry couldn't remember the last time anyone hugged him, anyone touched him kindly like this, and he leaned into Miles' arms willingly, happily, pressing his face into his shoulder. His other arm came around and held him a bit better, and Kerry managed to wrap his own arms around Miles in return, his hands holding onto the fabric of his coat tightly. "I promise," Miles said softly into Kerry's hair. "I promise. I won't leave you. I won't leave you, Kerry."

* * *

The next morning was a quiet sort of comfortable between them, something that lingered on the edge of what they knew and what was going to happen with them, and it left a warm, almost safe, feeling in Kerry's gut. Miles was up first, yawning and rubbing at his eyes as he stretched and tried to rekindle the fire to last long enough before they left. At some point in the night, their limbs had gotten all tangled together as they slept, and with their combined body heat with the heat of the fire must have been a bit too toasty for Miles. He had shrugged off his coat, only wearing a plaid button up and a zip up jacket, his hair disheveled and cheeks slightly pink as he stared at the fire, and Kerry laid there, watching him for a moment, before sitting up a little, Miles' coat falling off into his lap and he blushed a bit. "Oh, you're awake," Miles said, and Kerry looked up, seeing his smiling face. "Sorry, I didn't want to dig around for our blankets, so I just... improvised I guess."

Kerry's heart fluttered a bit and he smiled back. "It's fine," he said. "Thank you," he told him, before handing him his coat back. "Um, how long have you been up?"

Miles hummed. "Not long," he said with a shrug, turning back to the fire and smiling, motioning to the maps and papers he was looking at. "I was just looking over maps and stuff, trying to find the best way to head up into Dallas."

Kerry sat up and stretched properly, moving over to Miles. "Yeah? Which way would be fastest?" he asked him, looking over the maps, the several lines he had drawn in faded markers and pens.

"Sixty seven," Miles said, his finger finding the newest line, one marked in red, from where they were up to where they needed to go. "It's the fastest way that I could find. But we're going to need to find a city hall or something once we're inside the city so I can hopefully find some kind of record of my parents... I mean, surely that managed to state intact all these years, right?" he asked, turning to Kerry.

"Yeah, I would hope so," Kerry said quietly. "City records aren't the most important things when the world is ending. At least not that important."

Miles smiled and nodded. "Yeah," he said, looking back to the map, before pulling out the picture of his mom and smiling. "Thank you, Kerry. For coming with me for this," he told him softly, glancing up at him. "I honestly can't imagine doing this with anyone else."

The blond blushed and smiled shyly. "You're welcome, Miles," he said softly, before clearing his throat a little, grabbing his backpack and digging in it. "So, um, lets get some food in and then head out, how does that sound?" he asked, rubbing his neck as he pulled something for them to eat, looking up to see Miles' soft smile, his heart fluttering a little, before handing him the food without another word.

It was a few hours before they finished eating and gathered all their things together, putting out the fire the best they could and leaving the way they came in. There were storm clouds brewing in the distance, the air around them getting gradually colder, and Kerry wondered briefly how they could possibly stay out of that without getting stuck somewhere dangerous. He let his mind wander about it as they walked, letting Miles lead the way with his map in his hands and a cheerful, enthusiastic smile on his face. The brunet stuck close to him, always glancing back at Kerry to make sure he was keeping up, talking to him quietly and idly at times, and Kerry's heart warmed, just at that. Miles didn't want to leave him, and he was making sure he wouldn't. Despite how cold and grey everything around him was, how the world was cruel and difficult, he couldn't feel a shred of pessimism, not with Miles at his side talking about the things him and his friends did back in Austin, smiling and laughing and making obscure and random hand gestures to go with his stories, not with the way his own lips pulled into smiles and laughter, how he covered his mouth when he did laugh, how he had to stop and catch his breathe with his stomach aching. And especially not with the way Miles' looked at him, brown eyes shining and smile blinding, taking his hand like a shy schoolboy in love.

Maybe Kerry was in love. He wasn't sure what it felt like, a mix of fluttering in his stomach and aching happiness in his chest, a burn in his cheeks and a grin on his lips, how his brain went blank sometimes, how he didn't feel like the entire world was out to get them. He knew he didn't want to leave Miles' side; not when they got to Dallas, not if they ever went back to Austin, no matter where this trip took them, he wasn't going to leave. He couldn't imagine being without Miles now. It's how he felt when he met Chris.

A deep seated, cold fear etched into his heart at that thought. 

Miles was still holding his hand, chatting and smiling, his voice light and happy, while Kerry's heart froze over again, his chest aching at the thought. He let Miles in, he cared for Miles in a way that he never knew he could, he felt optimistic about the future, about getting to Dallas. Who was to say the same thing wouldn't happen to Miles, that he wouldn't one day get bit or go missing, that one day Kerry would wake up in some boarded up house in the middle of nowhere with a smoldering fire that went out hours ago, and a cold bedside, and no sight of the brunet anywhere. The thoughts made him squeeze back on Miles' hand a little, if nothing more than to ground himself, and he felt that chill bleed away a little when Miles' squeezed back.

If nothing else, Miles was here now. And they were okay.

It was hours of a blank, brown countryside walk along a deserted highway before they finally got into the Dallas city limits, and Kerry could feel Miles' excitement radiating around him, how his pace picked up just a bit, his chattering teeth unable to stop his stuttering words. They were close. The walls of the Dallas quarantine were crumbling in places, nearly two decades of weathering causing the walls to fall apart, and the sight made a chill run up Kerry's spine. Miles had let go of his hand to check his map again, and Kerry stuck close to him, before they found the front check in gates, passing through the rusted turnstiles and glancing around. There were boarded up buildings, nothing unusual for a large quarantine, but all the signs about curfews and rations and rules were rusting and falling off, signs and posters peeling off the brick, paint chipped away. There was an eerie silence, just the sound of the wind blowing through the buildings and leaving a shiver down their backs.

"God..." Miles mumbled to himself, and Kerry could hear the shaking fear in his voice over the shivering and chattering from the cold. "This place is..."

"Scary," Kerry finished quietly, glancing around and pulling his gun out of his belt loop, loading it and turning the safety off. "We need to stay alert. Who knows what's around here."

Miles nodded silently, then looked around. "We need to get to their city hall. That's where they kept all the records after the outbreak, right? There's got to be something in there that says my parent's address, their names, something, right?" he asked Kerry, looking at him and smiling a little at his nod. "Okay. So let's find that. There should be signs pointing in the right direction."

They followed the old roads the best they could, a lot of places blocked up with old cars or barricades, pavement fading into overgrown grass and weeds, sometimes a sign or two popping out from under the flora to point them in the right direction toward the town hall. It was a while before they got to the right building, their legs and feet aching under all the walking they had done, and Kerry wanted to lay down and sleep for a while, maybe even curl up next to Miles. The plaque at the front read " _City of Dallas, Texas_ " and Miles sighed, visibly deflating a bit from relief, before motioning for Kerry to take the lead. The blond walked up the steps past Miles, holding his gun and walking over the iced up pond in front, before they finally got to the doors. The glass was shattered, probably broken when the outbreak first started, because files and records were definitely deemed important back then, when no one knew what was happening. Kerry just hoped everything was still mostly intact. They stepped through the empty frame and into the building, and Kerry covered his mouth, his stomach churning sickly.

There were dead bodies laying across the floor, rotted away with time and blood dried, washed away, and redried again, staining the tile. Miles made a noise of disgust behind him, and Kerry stepped forward to look. They all had a single gun shot to the head. Military, probably. He sucked in a deep breath, then glanced around. There were signs, marking which way was what, and Kerry found the marker leading to the records, motioning for Miles to follow quietly. They headed down the hall, Kerry slightly head, his gun still tight in his hand, looking over the doors and watching for the right one. They were so close. They needed to find it, they needed to find Miles' parents. 

"Kerry," he heard Miles say behind him, and he turned, looking back to see the brunet pointing at a door, the plaque next to it clearly reading _"Records"_ , and Kerry could feel his heart soar for Miles. He headed to the door, trying the handle and carefully pushing it open, listening for anything inside. Silence. He smiled and opened it the rest of the way, kicking up a thick layer of dust on the floor and coughing, before pulling out his flash light and lighting up the room a little. There were filing cabinets lining the walls and filling the room in neat rows. It looked like no one had touched this room in a while. Miles wasted no time in looking over all the labels on the metal cabinets, looking for the right one, before pulling open the draw and starting to push through the files. Kerry stayed close to him, holding his flashlight over him so he could see, watching him pull out file after file after file with the name Luna on them. There were so many. 

"How are we going to find the right one?" Kerry asked. "How are we going to know?"

"I've got that picture of my mom. Surely there would be a photograph in them, right?" he asked, looking at Kerry. "They kept photographic records of the people in Austin."

Kerry nodded. "Yeah," he said. "So we look through the files until we find the one that matches your mom, right?" he asked, before he watched Miles pull a file out, shaking his head. 

"They've got on me," he said, holding it up for Kerry to see, and the blond kneeled down next to Miles, watching him open the file. On the front was a picture of his parents holding him in the hospital, it just out of focus enough to be unable to tell any real details, but the name on the paper stapled to the manilla folder was Miles Antony Luna. "It's me," he said softly, looking over the details. Born April 24th, 2014 in Dallas, Texas. A lot  of the typical sections of the records, like place of employment, allergies and blood type were left blank, a giant red "transfered" stamp covering the blank spaces. At the very bottom was a small note. " _Mother: Valerie Luna, Father: Theodore Luna. Transfered to Austin QZ_ ," Miles read quietly, before he dropped the file, grabbing at and looking through the others he had pulled out, and Kerry picked it up, looking closer at the faces of his parents. Something didn't sit right with the way they looked, but Kerry didn't quite know what. He looked over at Miles when he heard him mumble, catching sight of him looking through a file again, a smile on his face. The tab read _'Luna, Valerie'_ , and Kerry watched him.

"Is that-"

"I do have her eyes," he said quietly, smiling and looking at the picture in the corner. "I look just like her, Kerry..." he said quietly, sniffling a little and wiping at his eyes. "God... I... I never thought I'd ever actually get here," he said. "I never thought I'd find out about them. Look at my dad's file, his birthday is two weeks before mine," he said with a laugh. "My mom was born in November. They both had A type blood... Does that mean I do, too? My dad was in construction, my mom helped run the ration line. They lived in zone four, and here's the address, Kerry!" Miles said happily, showing him the line on the paper. "We need to go there, Kerry! What if my parent's left things behind and there's something there that tells me about them!" he said. 

Kerry's gut still didn't feel right about the picture on Miles' file, but the face Miles was making, a mixture of hope and optimism, wouldn't let Kerry bring it to himself to voice it, didn't let him voice his concerns about this ghost chasing they were doing. Something wasn't right about this situation, about how Miles never knew about his parents before now, despite the people who raised him knowing them. Kerry could barely remember his parents, but he still knew about them, their jobs, their names, their faces outside of single polaroids taking decades ago with smudged writing. But Miles was so hopeful, and Kerry didn't want to disappoint him. Maybe he was wrong. Hopefully he was wrong. "Yeah, let's head over there before it gets late."

Miles grabbed the three files and tucked them into his backpack, before they both stood up and left the building. The clouds had gotten closer, the chill in the air getting colder, but whatever fire was making Miles continue on wouldn't let it seep under his skin. He had his map out again, drawing paths across it and referencing it with the street names, and Kerry let him lead, watching him, that sinking feeling not leaving as they got closer and closer to their destination, closer to whatever truth had fueled Miles his whole life. The address led to a home right on the wall, one not turned in a makeshift clinic or ration line, the windows not boarded or broken, but there was still a broken down truck in the driveway, the hood open and stripped of its parts to scrap for the military's tanks, more than likely. Miles bounded up the steps like he had lived there his whole life, and Kerry followed close behind, watching him open the door to silence and dust, the overcast sunlight filtering through the windows into a living room. "Wow," Miles said quietly, walking over to pick up bits of things off of the shelves, old pictures and books that didn't make the furious packing their parents must have done before they were transfered. Kerry looked up a staircase to the top floor, before back to Miles when he moved toward it.

"Are we going up there?" Kerry asked, his heart sinking at the frantic nod from Miles. He went up first, checking around corners and in rooms for anything, before they both walked into a bedroom. There was a queen sized bed in the center, covers pulled back and a large stain on one side, the closet door thrown open and drawers ransacked, things knocked over and laying about. They definitely left in a hurry. Miles immediately went to the bedside tables, searching through the things left behind. "Um, Miles, look, I... I didn't want to say this but... I don't have a good feeling about this," Kerry said, swallowing thickly and glancing around. "I... I mean why didn't you know your parents names before now?"

"The people who took care of me didn't remember them," he said, and Kerry frowned. Unlikely, in reality. Miles didn't turn to him, before moving to the other table, looking through it more.

Kerry sighed. "I just... I don't want you to get your hopes up anymore just to be let down, Miles I-"

"I found it!" he cheered, pulling a small, black journal out of the drawer and moving to sit on the bed, Kerry's heart racing as he opened it to start reading, a smile on his face. " _'Theo and I finally moved into a real house today,'_ " Miles read, his eyes sparkling as he did. Kerry just wanted him to stop. " _'It's not anything fancy, or big, but it's nice and cozy, and there's another bedroom, ready for a baby when we are. For now it's my craft room'_. She liked crafts..." he said happily. "Oh, here's another entry. Looks like this was written when the outbreak started. _'They walled off Dallas today, no way in or out without military permission. We were given new jobs. Theo works in construction, I hand out food at the ration lines. There's still news and radio coming from outside. It's not getting any better. It hasn't for months. But for now, we're safe here, and that's all that matters'_."

Kerry glanced around. There were pictures of Miles' dad, of his mom, various family members Miles didn't even know about. 

"Oh, oh, Kerry, I saw my name on this page!" Miles said, and Kerry turned back to him, watching his smile fall quickly, Kerry's blood running cold. "W-Wait, no..."

"Miles..."

"My mom found out she was pregnant with me and... she didn't want me," Miles said, his voice flat. "My dad wasn't going to let her abort me... Said it wasn't safe. Not even because they wanted me... She didn't want to bring me into this world... My dad didn't want me at all, said it'd be one more mouth to feed with rations... Kerry, they... they didn't care about me."  
Kerry felt his heart crumble into pieces at how lost Miles sounded, how small his voice was. He was lied to, all his life, about his parents, about his home. Every bit of it, was lies. This is why the old couple never told Miles about his parents; they didn't want him to find out that they never truly wanted him. Miles closed the journal and laid it on the bedside table, staring at the bedsheets, his eyes glistening with tears, before he closed them tight, standing up without a word. "Miles-"

"Let's make a camp downstairs. It's getting dark outside," Miles said, his voice almost cold and Kerry tensed up, watching him pass him and head out of the room. He stared out the door, before moving to grab the journal again, sitting on the edge and opening the book to read.

_'I threw up this morning when I woke up, thought it was just a case of food poisoning, or a bug, or something, but Theo urged me to go to the clinic to get it checked out. After a long check list of any symptoms I had felt in the past few days, the doctor came to the conclusion that I was pregnant. I don't know how, Theo has condoms and I've still got my birth control. We didn't want this to happen, we don't want to bring a child into this world. I don't want to put him through what we've gone through, especially not with Theo still having nightmares about having to shoot our neighbor who made a lunge at us. But... Theo just doesn't want another mouth to feed, says he works too long and hard for the rations we get now, and can't imagine having to work anymore just to get formula and diapers and baby clothes. But he says aborting it isn't an option either, not with how minimal the clinics are right now. Says we should just get rid of it when it's born, and I have to agree. I don't want a child. I can't handle one. It makes me sick to think like this, but there isn't any other way.'_

His skin prickled at the words, his veins running cold again, and he turned the page. He had to know what happened.

_'My water broke this morning. Nine months later and finally, finally, Theo can stop grumbling and working so hard. He rushed me to the clinic, and I gave birth to a boy. He's got his father's unruly brown hair and my eyes. Theo didn't want me to, but I named him Miles. Miles Antony Luna. We were going to put him up for adoption the second we got back home, but officials came to our door. We're both being transfered to Austin, a ride was prepared for us to leave at midnight. Miles is crying loudly on the bed as I write this, and Theo is rushing to grab things and tuck them into bags. I'm tired. Hopefully we can find Miles a good home when we get to Austin. I only hope it works out better there than here.'_

Kerry bit his lip and closed the journal, the rest of the pages blank, before he set it back down. He needed to tell Miles that his mom wanted him, even if a little, when he was born. He descended the steps, hand following the banister. "Miles?" he called out to the house, walking back into the living room, finding Miles curled up on the couch, starting out the window with a lost look in his eyes. His parent's files laid on the floor, papers scattered, the picture of his mom ripped in half and laying in two pieces. Kerry's heart ached and he moved to sit next to him. "Miles?"

"I was lied to," Miles said quietly. "All my life. They told me my parent's loved me, that they cared about me, how they would have done anything for me. They _lied_. My parents didn't do any of that for me. They didn't want me at all."

"Miles, that's not true-"

"Then explain what I read, Kerry," he said, his voice raising just a little, it deadly serious, with a sharp snap to it. Kerry flinched back. "They didn't fucking want me. The only reason my mom even had me was because she didn't want to die getting rid of me," he said, before looking over at him. "They didn't give a shit about me, Kerry. Never did. Don't try any tell me it wasn't true." His voice had an air of finality to it, and Kerry looked away, chest aching painfully. He got up silently and pulled off his backpack, digging through it to find something to light up the room, even if a little, before laying his blankets on the ground. Miles didn't say another word as he did, and Kerry crawled under them, eyes watching the brunet.

"Night, Miles," he said softly.

He was met with silence until he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Follow me on Tumblr! ](http://seanspooles.co.vu)


	6. Darkness Falling Leaves Nowhere To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no excuse as to why this took so long other than i suck  
> im also sorry, in advance.  
> the next chapter should be the last one if i dont decide to go longer !!

Kerry woke to the sound of rain.  
  
There were big, heavy droplets against the front windows of the building, the smell of wet concrete and earth drafting in with the cold air, and he shivered, pulling the blankets up over him more. That'd rain would either turn to ice or to snow, and either way, he wasn't too excited about the outcome. He sighed and sat up, holding his arms to himself and looking around. There was a gentle bluish glow from the electric lantern he managed to find coming from the corner, his backpack propped up against the wall a bit away from him, and then there was a rustling coming from the area on the first floor below him. He sighed, frowning and standing up carefully, grabbing his backpack and the lantern, his stomach grumbling as he came down from the landing, feet creaking on the old floorboards on the stairs, getting the attention of his companion, who looked up at him. Kerry idly wondered how much sleep Miles got judging by the look on his face, how sunken and dark the circles under his eyes were. He frowned a little, watching him turn away, throwing down a box he was looking through. "Nothing," he said quietly, his voice rough, and he cleared his throat. "We should get moving."  
  
"Miles, maybe we should wait the storm out a little," he said quietly, holding his lantern a bit tighter, glancing outside. It started raining harder, a flash of lightning lighting up in the distance. There was the gentle grumble of thunder and Kerry sighed, looking back to Miles.  
  
Miles took a moment, sighing and contemplating, before shaking his head. "We shouldn't sit in the same place for long. The walkers will hear the storm and we might get trapped in here," he said, standing up straight and grabbing his backpack, throwing it on and turning. "Come on."  
  
Kerry stood silently as Miles passed him without another word, and he turned to follow, turning off his lantern and hanging it off the clip on his backpack, heading out of the shop with him, a deep frown etched on his face as he stared at the back of the brunet's head.  
  
They had been doing this for a month now after Dallas; barely making any ground, wandering through towns and streets without a purpose, only to find somewhere to duck into for a night, or two. It was a small suburb named Garland this time, and Kerry glanced back at the shop as they exited. Some vintage clothing shop. There was a thoroughly ransacked coffee shop next to it, then an antique store that was mostly boarded up, then a church on the corner. Miles didn't want to step foot into the church, even though it was the safest and warmest looking on the street. There weren't any walkers, really, just one or two randomly off down a street or left trapped in a building, but there weren't any survivors either; everyone was probably sent to the Dallas quarantine when the outbreak began, and after that... who knew. Kerry moved a bit closer to Miles as they walked, clutching his pistol in his hand.  
  
Miles wasn't the same Miles Kerry met back on the outside of Austin, not anymore. He was cold and distant, and when they left his parent's home in Dallas, the first walker either of them saw, Miles took the crowbar he had managed to hold onto since Georgetown and beat the walker's face in. Kerry, as hardened and desensitized as he was, nearly threw up at the sight, less because of the bits of decaying brain going all over the sidewalk and onto Miles' tattered high tops, more because of the look of finality on the brunet's face when he was done, because of the dried tear tracks and the way his lip quivered like he wanted to cry but wouldn't let himself, because of all that time he told Kerry he didn't want to kill walkers because he had that hope that they'd be human again. Miles wasn't there anymore, not like before, and Kerry could only vaguely wonder if he still cared about him under the grime and blood, the layers of cold walls he put up in the span of ten minutes, wondered if he still thought about that night in the gym, cuddled together under blankets and next to the fire, how their hands met so perfectly on that highway. He wondered if Miles still remembered his promise.  
  
They stuck to the sides of buildings, trying to avoid the rain and stay dry, Kerry's eyes staring at Miles' soaked backpack as they walked. They didn't get very far, only a few blocks down from where they were originally, before Miles was saying they should find a new place to stay for the night. Kerry agreed quietly, letting him lead their way through an old neighborhood full of rotting, boarded up houses, before they finally found one that was open. Miles went in first, hand tight on his crowbar as Kerry followed with his knife, shivering and only relaxing when there wasn't a threat, deciding to make their small camp in the living room. Miles got to work pulling out everything while Kerry wandered down the hallway to the left of the front door they came in from; there was a bedroom after a hall closet, then another bedroom, although it looked more like a nursery. Kerry's stomach sank a little, walking in quietly and bending down to pick up a left behind stuffed giraffe, before setting it back down and leaving.  
  
Miles had pulled out some blankets and a few things of food while Kerry was gone, and the blond moved to set his lantern down, turning it on and sitting across from Miles, looking at him. "How are we doing on food?" Kerry asked, pulling out his own blanket and wrapping himself up in it, the chill of the freezing rain setting in. He shivered and sniffled a little.  
  
"Okay," Miles said softly. "We have enough for a few more days. We should find more as soon as the storm passes."  
  
Kerry nodded and bit his lip, shivering a little. His clothes were soaked from the storm that was starting to pick up again outside, and he suddenly wished he had kept an extra set in his backpack. He sighed and held his blanket closer, looking up when Miles sighed. "What?" he asked through chattering teeth, making a face.  
  
"You're going to freeze to death in those clothes," Miles said simply, before getting up. "Was there a bedroom back off that way?" Kerry nodded silently and he headed off down the hall. "Get out of those clothes. I'll be back." The blond sat there for a moment, before pulling off his clothes, letting them hit the wooden floor with wet plops as he did, before pulling his blanket around him again, shivering more and sighing. He heard Miles' footsteps come back, looking up and blushing a bit at the clothes he held. "They might be a bit big on you," he said, shrugging. "But they're better than soaking wet clothes."  
  
Kerry nodded and took them from Miles, quickly putting them on and shivering, sighing quietly and glancing up as he saw Miles doing the same he had done; stripping off his wet clothes and putting on the new, dry ones. He blushed and ducked his head into the hoodie, hiding his face and sighing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. When he finally finished wiggling his way into the new clothes, he pulled his blanket back around his shoulders, feeling less cold now for sure, watching Miles push their soaking wet clothes to the side and sit down across the lantern from him. "Miles, I-"  
  
"We should get to sleep," Miles said, not making any eye contact with Kerry, before laying down, his head resting on his backpack. Kerry sat there, staring at him, before sighing and getting up, footsteps creaking as he headed down into the kitchen area, looking around. There was a smashed china cabinet in the corner, leaning against a table and some chairs, all of the cupboards and pantries opened and empty, dishes laying uncleaned in the sink. There was another door off to the side, and he stepped forward, heading past an old laundry room, before pushing the door open slowly.  
  
The walls were a bright pink and there was a set of built in shelves on the left wall, and as he pushed the door across the floor, it kicked up dust that had settled on the rug in the middle of the floor and on the tile. He coughed and waved his hand in front of his face to get it away. The window on the right was cracked and a piece had fallen out, the window blowing the white curtains in front of it around a little. He sighed, frowning a little at the posters that were falling off the walls, wrinkled and crumbling from the weather, the bed that was still a mess like whoever had slept in it last left without making it, a few backpacks open and dug through in the corner, before his eyes fell to an old computer desk. There was a piece of paper resting on the keyboard, the handwriting on it hasty and messy, a couple of dried up markers sitting next to it. He hummed, picking it up and sighing.  
  
" _J, look, something really really bad is happening, and no matter what your mom and I do, we can't get ahold of you. I know you're out helping with that church thing, but all of the cell towers must be down. The military came through and there evacuating everyone. If you get back here and read this, please, please find us in Dallas. I just hope your safe. Love, Hope."_  
  
Kerry sighed. He almost forgot some people lived their lives without the undead walking around before, that there was a long period of human history that didn't have to survive day-to-day. It was so strange to think about, honestly. He went to set it back down, before he noticed the bled through ink, turning the page over to see another message written, although the writing was neater, it was still the same handwriting.  
  
_"I don't know where you went. I don't know what happened. They took your parents onto the bus, they made it to Dallas. But I got left behind, I didn't make it onto the bus. I still don't know where you are. You haven't come back. I haven't seen my parents, I haven't seen my siblings. I don't know what to do. I hope you're safe, I hope you're safe with Craig. I hope he got you to Dallas. I can hear one of those... things outside. I don't know how I'm going to get out. I don't think I will. If you come back, J, don't open your closet door, and remember that you were always my best friend. I'm sorry. -Hope"_  
  
He felt a cold chill go through his blood as the bottom of the page was stained with blood, and he looked down, kicking up some of the dust, seeing the flaking, dark remains of blood stains on the tile. He glanced over at the closet door, seeing the dark smears across the doorknob and the door, before stepping forward slowly, pulling his knife from it's sheath and opening the door carefully. There was a dark puddle staining the floor inside, and a skeleton slumped in the corner, another one laying across the doorway. There was a pair of scissors next to the hand of one, covered in blood, and he glanced up at the wall. "I'm sorry" was smeared on the wall in blood, and Kerry felt his insides churn. He quickly shut the door and stepped back, a hand over his mouth as he felt sick. He left the room without looking back, going back to the living room and laying down without another word, curling up under his blanket and trying not to start crying.  
  
~~**\---------**~~  
  
They spent a whole week wandering around the downtown area of Garland, before finally starting to head north again. Miles still hadn't spoken much to Kerry if he didn't have to, the dark circles under his eyes looking more sunken every morning when Kerry woke up, and the cold made him look more pale, more sickly. Kerry worried, for a moment, that Miles would end up sick again, and this time, Kerry wouldn't be able to help; no Jon to come in and share medicine with him, or give him food. He tried not to think to hard about it, but as the days and nights started getting colder and the rain quickly turned to ice, it was hard not to think every night as Kerry laid awake, across the room from Miles, if this was their last night, if in the morning one of them just wasn't going to wake up. He sighed, holding his arms closer to himself as him and Miles walked, glancing up and looking around. They were passing through an old town center, shops and stores boarded up, or ransacked, broken glass laying around the streets and sidewalks. He sighed, catching sight of a mostly intact building, tapping Miles' arm and pointing. "Over there?" he asked.  
  
Miles looked off at where Kerry was pointing, humming and shrugging. "We might as well check it out," he said, sighing and heading over, Kerry quickly catching up to keep close. The sign above said "Barnes and Noble", and the signs in the windows showed books, so Kerry could only guess it was a bookstore. He sighed as they headed in, trying the doors. "Locked," Miles mumbled, sighing. "We could break the windows," he told Kerry.  
  
"We could try the other side," Kerry suggested, holding his hands around his eyes as he peaked through the glass. "There's another set of doors on the other side." Miles hummed and started off toward the other side, and Kerry moved quickly to keep up, watching Miles' back as they walked. When they got around to the other set of doors, Miles tried them, finding they were unlocked. Kerry smiled a little as they headed in, then moved to push a few displays and stands against the doors so nothing could find their way through them. "How did this place stay intact like this? You think it'd be broken apart."  
  
Miles didn't answer and looked around. "Looks like we can make a fire. There's enough to burn," he said, then looked over to where a small coffee shop was. "We can make it in there." Kerry watched him with sullen eyes, nodding silently.  
  
They headed over to clear out a large spot for their beds and fire in the coffee shop, pushing the chairs and tables away from the center. Miles started pulling things out while Kerry started collecting books for them, grabbing entire rows. He carried an arm full back up to their little camp, handing half to Miles and starting to tear them apart, setting them in a pile on the floor. Miles lit up a match, tossing it into the pile and watching as the pages slowly started burning, sighing heavily. Kerry watched the fire, glancing up at Miles. "Kerry, what scares you?" Miles asked, making Kerry jump at the sudden conversation.  
  
"Um, well," Kerry said slowly, thinking about it. "I... I don't really like water. I don't know how to swim, so I'm scared of drowning," he said, and he could feel Miles' eyes on him. "I'm scared of ending up like my parents. I'm scared of ending up like Chris. I'm scared of the walkers, of being bit, of dying..." he trailed off, before swallowing. "I'm scared of ending up alone again." He went quiet, before breathing in slowly and looking up at Miles. "What about you?"  
  
Miles looked down. "I used to be scared of ending up like my parents," he told him, and Kerry saw the pain flicker across his face. "I'm scared of being lied to. And heights. Dying. Being bit..." he sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm scared of being alone in this world, now that I don't have anywhere to go."  
  
Kerry hummed. "You're not alone now."  
  
He looked up and sighed. "I know," he said, before looking down. "But... I, I mean..."  
  
It went quiet around them as they sat there, Miles contemplating what he wanted to say and Kerry not sure what to expect out of Miles' mouth; this was the first time he had properly talked in weeks, after all. He didn't want to shut Miles up for another few weeks, and he was scared talking anymore would. There was a moment of tense silence, before Kerry opened his mouth to speak. "Miles, look I-"  
  
"I'm sorry," Miles said softly, biting his lip and looking at the fire as he spoke, his hands resting in his lap. Kerry looked over at him, seeing the worry in his eyes and how, almost all at once, he looked even more tired and aged than he had before. But there was a concern etched into his face, a genuine worry, and Kerry's heart soared a little at it. "I'm sorry. For how I've been acting since... Since Dallas," he told him softly, sighing and moving his hands, one finding Kerry's and squeezing. "I... I just felt so lost all of the sudden, Kerry. Everything I had wanted in life, to learn about my parents, to hope for a cure, to find out where I came from and the people who cared about it, it just... suddenly fell apart in front of my eyes. My entire world just crumbled away suddenly. And I... I took that out on you. I shouldn't have. Because you're the only person I have left now and I... I really shouldn't blow it."  
  
Kerry's heart soared more, blushing and watching Miles lean his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes. "Miles..." he said quietly. "It's okay," he told him, squeezing his hand and rubbing his thumb over his skin. "It's okay. I know..."  
  
Miles looked at Kerry and blushed a little, before he smiled, sighing and moving his other hand up to rub at his eyes. "Where are we even going to go now?" he asked, watching the fire crack in front of them. "Dallas was a dead end for me, and there's not another quarantine this far north until we get to Oklahoma," he said.  
  
"We could go back south, go back to Austin," he said, looking down at Miles a little, who looked up at him. "Sneak back in."  
  
"We've been missing from military call for months, Kerry," Miles said, frowning a bit. "The soldiers might just..."  
  
Kerry sighed and nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly, squeezing Miles' hand. "Then... I don't know. We could just find a place to hold up, then. Make a home for ourselves."  
  
Miles smiled a bit and hummed, nodding and moving a bit closer to Kerry, sighing softly. "Yeah. That sounds good," he said, holding his hand a bit tighter and looking at the fire a bit longer. "Hey, Kerry?" Kerry hummed, looking at Miles when he didn't hear him answer, his heart racing a little. Miles was looking right at him, brown eyes on his and sighing softly. "Can you promise me something?"  
  
The blond blushed a little, feeling his nerves bubble up a little at how close they there faces were, nodding a little. "Yeah," he said quietly. "What is it?"  
  
"Promise... Promise me you won't leave me, either," he said softly, his cheeks a bit pink.  
  
Kerry felt his heart start racing and his stomach flipped, nodding silently for a moment. It felt like a weight that had been resting on his chest and shoulders for weeks, since Dallas, just lifted; Miles didn't want him to leave, just as much as Kerry didn't want Miles to leave. He moved, wrapping his arms around Miles' shoulders and nodding again, burying his face into his neck. "I promise," he said softly. "I promise I won't leave you, Miles."  
  
Miles sighed and wrapped his arms around Kerry's middle, holding him close and pressing his face into Kerry's hair, hands holding onto his coat tightly. "Thank you," he said quietly, clinging to Kerry. "Thank you, Kerry..."  
  
~~**\---------**~~  
  
The sound of screams woke Kerry up.  
  
His eyes opened suddenly and he sat up, panicking as he looked around. The spot where Miles had been laying the night before was empty and cold, his backpack still laying on the ground. There was a shuffle and a crash coming from back behind the counter of the coffee shop and he got up quickly, grabbing his gun and hesitating. "Kerry!" he heard Miles yell and his blood ran cold, rushing over and vaulting over the counter, before heading back into the doors, hearing another crash. Miles was pressed up against a wall, wrestling against a walker, his arm pressed against it's neck and his eyes shut tight as he tried to push it off. When he heard Kerry run in, he opened his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks. "Kerry! Kerry, help!" he yelled, and Kerry pulled his gun up, hands shaking as he watched the two of them.  
  
"Miles, close your eyes!" he said, watching Miles follow his directions, before lining up the walker's head in his sights, before shooting it, ears ringing at the bang that echoed around the small storage room, watching it fall to the ground away from Miles, blood pouring across the tile and bits of rotting brain splattered across the wall. He panted, before turning to Miles, putting his gun back onto his belt loop, before moving toward him, taking his hands. "O-Oh, fuck, Miles, were you bit? Please tell me you weren't bit," he said quickly.  
  
Miles shook his head frantically, hands resting on Kerry's arms, before he wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and sniffling, shaking and pressing his face into his neck. "I..." he choked, before they both froze, moving away from each other and looking out the door. There was the sound of glass creaking and cracking, and Kerry cursed.  
  
"Fuck, fuck, they heard the gunshot," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, Miles, we have to get out of here." The brunet nodded, and they moved back out to get their backpacks and stuff, putting them on and looking over at the locked set of doors, seeing a small group of walkers pressing against the glass. Kerry put his hand on Miles' arm, before moving over to where they had come in from, both of them working to push the displays they had pushed to block their way, before pushing the doors open and heading outside. The rain that had been lingering over them for weeks had finally started turning to snow, a thin layer of white powder on the ground. Kerry looked around, seeing more walkers in the distance. "Shit," he cursed.  
  
"We're never going to get out of here, Kerry," Miles said quickly, looking at him, his face full of panic. "There's too many."  
  
"We..." he trailed off, not wanting to resort to that. He promised he wouldn't leave. They didn't have a choice. "We have to split up. Maybe they'll be less likely to follow us if we're separated."  
  
Miles' eyes went wide and he shook his head. "No, no," he said quickly, moving closer to Kerry. "No, no, no, Kerry, I don't want you to run off on your own," he said, looking at him. The sound of groans and gurgled moans were starting to get closer and Kerry felt the panic rise in his blood. "We'll both end up dead like that."  
  
"No, look," Kerry started, glancing around, pointing to the highway in the distance. "That highway," he began. "There was a neighborhood off of that highway. We meet down there, okay? I'll leave a scarf tied on the mailbox out front," he said, looking at Miles. "We'll be okay, Miles, I promise. We'll meet back up there, I know we will."  
  
"I don't want to lose you," Miles said, shaking his head, and Kerry saw the tears in his eyes. "I don't, Kerry."  
  
Kerry shook his head, starting to step back. "We have to, Miles. If we travel together we'll gain too much attention," he told him, before stepping forward again, kissing Miles' cheek quickly, slipping his gun into Miles' hand. "The neighborhood off the highway. We'll meet there. I know we will."  
  
Miles looked hesitant, holding the gun loosely, before he nodded, turning to head the opposite way Kerry was going, and Kerry sat to watch him a bit, before heading off, legs pumping as he ran, boots crunching against the snow and ice on the road, panting as his breath puffed visibly in front of him. He hand was tight on his knife, and he almost faltered when he heard a gunshot in the distance. He tried not to think about it, continuing along. The road eventually lead onto a highway, overpasses collapsed and crumbling below, and he quickly made his way over the rubble, panting and glancing back. He didn't see Miles. Maybe he was taking a longer way around to avoid the walkers. He swallowed, before turning back to head up toward the neighborhood, panting as he walked, trying to catch his breath. His lungs were burning from the cold air, his throat dry and he coughed, shivering a little as he held his arms close to himself.  
  
It felt like hours, walking alone on that empty highway, wondering about Miles, if he'd make it out okay, make it to the neighborhood okay, before he got there, looking over the collapsing houses, going to the only one that seemed well put together, still. He pulled his scarf from his neck, tying it around the mailbox and looking back toward where he came in, hoping to see Miles. Nothing. The front door wasn't barricaded, or locked, so Kerry headed in quietly, listening for anything. The wind blew hard and cold against the windows, and Kerry sniffled again, checking the house for any signs of infected, before heading upstairs and finding a room. There was a queen sized bed with thick blankets folded at the end in one corner, an empty dresser against the wall by the door, a closet that had been ransacked, and a desk in the other corner with various broken frames and pens laying around.  
  
Kerry dropped his backpack onto the ground, pulling the electric lantern off of the hook, turning it on low and setting it down on the desk in the corner, before pushing the dresser against the door, grabbing the thick blankets off of the bed and pulling them around himself, sitting down against it and counting the seconds in his head, before the seconds turned to minutes, and the minutes turned to hours, and before Kerry knew it, he was sleeping against the side of the bed, the space next to him empty and cold.  
  
~~**\---------**~~  
  
The sun shined through the window and through the curtains, casting light and shadows over Kerry, waking him up. He groaned at the brightness, rubbing his eyes and blinking a few times to clear his vision, before looking around. Everything was where he left the it the night before; the lantern was on the desk, the dresser was against the door, and the blankets were still around his shoulders. The only dust that had been cut into was the path he took in the room, of what he moved, and his heart sinks.  
  
Miles hadn't been up here.  
  
He got up, dropping the blankets and shivering, stretching slightly and collecting his lantern, before pushing the dresser out of the way and opening the door. The only set of prints were his own as he headed downstairs, glancing around him at every creak of the house, at ever breath of wind outside, even at his own heartbeat, looking for any sign of Miles. He peeked his head around corners, into rooms, calling his name softly into the emptiness of the house, listening for the chance that he'd call back. Kerry frowned, stopping in the living room and tightening the grip on the handle of his lantern. He wasn't here. Miles wasn't here.  
  
_"It's because he's dead."_  
  
He shook the voice from his face, putting the lantern back onto the hook on his backpack, before pushing open the front door and heading out into the cold. The sky was clear and blue, snow glistening in the early morning light, unbroken and fresh. He headed through it, leaving his boot prints in it, heading back toward the highway. Maybe Miles never left the town center. Maybe he was still there. He held his arms close to himself, huffing his breath into the cold air as he walked, shivering. He glanced over the bridge on his way there, looking at the frozen water below, seeing a family of rabbits sniff around the ice, before he continued on, snow crunching under his feet, ice cracking under his weight. It was another hour before he was anywhere near the town center, and once he was, he was relieved to find the walkers from the night before were gone. He sighed, heading to the bookstore, ducking back in through the broken glass and heading up to where his and Miles' camp had been. There was a dark, barely smoldering pile where there fire had been, blankets and pillows still wadded up at how quickly they had thrown them off. He knelt down, folding them up and tucking them into his bag, before heading to the backroom, checking for Miles. Nothing, but the frozen corpse they had killed and the shelves that had fallen over during the struggle.  
  
He headed back out of the bookshop, glancing around. "Miles!" he yelled, cupping his hands over his mouth. There were faint marks in the snow from where they had run out, before separating, and Kerry followed where Miles had ran, shivering as the wind blew cold. "Miles, are you out here?" he called out, looking around. There seemed to be no sign of him. He didn't know where to ever start looking; the town center had a lot of buildings and shops, and Miles could have, realistically, been hiding in any of them. He looked down, following the prints Miles left, hoping that'd give him something to go on, heading into the center. There was a fountain, water that had pooled in over the decades frozen over and green, the wooden gazebo over hangings rotten away and collapsed around. There was a dead walker, laying on top of one of the chairs, and Kerry headed over to it. A single bullet in it's head, an empty casing under the snow, and an imprint left by Miles, where he must have fallen. In the middle of it was his journal, and a splatter of blood. He went cold, bending down to pick his journal up, ignoring the blood. He couldn't have been bit. He just couldn't have.  
  
There was a shuffle on the other side of the street and Kerry glanced over, seeing a walker moving slowly, and he quietly slipped away, heading back to the highway before it noticed him. He felt sick, now, and despite telling himself it was the cold, it was from being out in the cold like he was, he knew it was a lie. He didn't feel like facing the truth right now. He didn't want to know.  
  
The walk back to the house was quiet, only the sound of his boot crunching and teeth chattering to keep him company. He headed across the bridge silently, glancing over the edge. There was a hole in the ice, now, a large crack running across, and a dead rabbit floating in it. He held his arms closer, turning away and continuing on. It felt like a sign, and he didn't want to think about it right now. He heads back into the house, shivering and going back upstairs, blocking the door again and sicking to the floor next to the bed, letting his emotions catch up to him. He let out a soft sob, covering his face and curling up. He let the cold settle into his bones, make a home in his chest, in his heart, sobbing into his gloves over the home he just lost.  
  
He was alone again.

So the next morning he packed his things, stuffing them into his backpack without a sound. He ripped a spare sheet of paper out of the back of Miles' journal, grabbing an old pencil off the desk and scratching out a note, before he left it there, heading out of the house and into the cold.  
  
_"went north. i hope ill see you again. im sorry. from; kerry"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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